Name: someone 2007-01-15 0:59
so.... here's one of his speeches, with a little editorial juice added to it to spice things up...
Five score years ago (because it sounds nicer and more "symbolic" than "a century ago"), a great American (Abe Lincoln, who looked too tall, especially with his hat), in whose symbolic shadow we stand (of course), signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice (yeah, "let's free all the blacks in land we don't control so they'll fight harder against the rebels"). It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.
But one hundred years (what happened to "five score"?) later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro (nah, African-American) is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. (Hey! You just pissed off the feminists!)
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. (Yeah, now that we acceptin' the kikes in SOME of the country clubs, man.) Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check --- a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds" (boing!). But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check --- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now (there's nothin' like now to remind one of now....wh000 h00000....). This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. (Yeah, wait until the honky named Oswald assassinates the President, then we'll see the beginning... of confusion and coloful people called "beatniks"... no, "Sputniks"... how about "hipsters"?) Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundation of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. (oh yeah, watch out for the geyser in Watts and the one in Newark...)
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. (Audience: ZZZZZZ....) Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. (Audience: ZZZZZZ....get fuckin' Malcolm X, already! we wanna have FUN, mofos!)
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. (I'm a religious guy, y'know, so... come and religion with me, ok? thee-ah you-ah go-ah, nigga) The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro (nigger) community must not lead us to a distrust of all white (redneck) people, for many of our white (honkey) brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny (and Destiny's destiny is destined to be destinous) and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We can not walk alone (so let's just wander around).
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "when will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of unspeakable horrors of police brutality (basta ya!). We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. (Some of you have come from smoking bongs. Some of you have come from jerking off. Whatever.) You have been the veterans of creative suffering (in other words, hippies. That's the word I was looking for). Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed (yeah, we'll create new and dirtier ghettos and slums). Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. (Let's wallow on the mountain of crack cocaine.... oops! Just say no to drugs, homie! Okay, let's wallow on the mountain of hip hop)
I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. (In other words, I took a nap in a suburb the other day.)
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed --- "We hold these these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal." (The women? who gives a shit about the women?)
I have a dream that one day on the red (Injun) hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves (niggers) and the sons of former slaveowners (inbred rednecks) will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi (The State with Too Long a Name), a desert (dessert) state sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. (Or just a mosquito-infested puddle courtesy of Hurricane Katrina.)
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers. (Hurrah for "miscegenation!" Heck, the spics are already doing it! And its products are beautiful, too...)
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low (yeah, we love strip mining), and rough places will be made plains, and the crooked places will be made straight,and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together (and all maps rendered void, and all geography bees nullified, and all cities become countryside, and all countryside turned urban, ad nauseum).
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the south. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. (Okay, and what do we do with the rubbish we've chinked away from the mountain?) With this faith will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must come true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. (I meant Maine. Who gives a fuck about New Hampshire?) Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains (including skyscrapers) of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. (Yeah, let freedom ring from HILLBILLY-LAND! Erma Mae git yer gun!)
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. (Yeah, freedom to bash people for being fags and dykes. Jolly good bigoted fun!)
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California. (And from the bimbos whose chests they reside upon.)
But not only that --- let freedom ring from Stone Mountain in Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring. (Once we manage to climb up those mountains (puff, puff) to bring freedom up there so we can ring it, of course!)
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men (niggers) and white men (weeaboos), Jews (kikes) and Gentiles (goyim and shikshas), Protestants (heretics) and Catholics (Papists), will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual,
Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last! (Or at least 50% off!)
Five score years ago (because it sounds nicer and more "symbolic" than "a century ago"), a great American (Abe Lincoln, who looked too tall, especially with his hat), in whose symbolic shadow we stand (of course), signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice (yeah, "let's free all the blacks in land we don't control so they'll fight harder against the rebels"). It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.
But one hundred years (what happened to "five score"?) later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro (nah, African-American) is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. (Hey! You just pissed off the feminists!)
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. (Yeah, now that we acceptin' the kikes in SOME of the country clubs, man.) Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check --- a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds" (boing!). But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check --- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now (there's nothin' like now to remind one of now....wh000 h00000....). This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. (Yeah, wait until the honky named Oswald assassinates the President, then we'll see the beginning... of confusion and coloful people called "beatniks"... no, "Sputniks"... how about "hipsters"?) Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundation of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. (oh yeah, watch out for the geyser in Watts and the one in Newark...)
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. (Audience: ZZZZZZ....) Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. (Audience: ZZZZZZ....get fuckin' Malcolm X, already! we wanna have FUN, mofos!)
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. (I'm a religious guy, y'know, so... come and religion with me, ok? thee-ah you-ah go-ah, nigga) The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro (nigger) community must not lead us to a distrust of all white (redneck) people, for many of our white (honkey) brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny (and Destiny's destiny is destined to be destinous) and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We can not walk alone (so let's just wander around).
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "when will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of unspeakable horrors of police brutality (basta ya!). We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. (Some of you have come from smoking bongs. Some of you have come from jerking off. Whatever.) You have been the veterans of creative suffering (in other words, hippies. That's the word I was looking for). Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed (yeah, we'll create new and dirtier ghettos and slums). Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. (Let's wallow on the mountain of crack cocaine.... oops! Just say no to drugs, homie! Okay, let's wallow on the mountain of hip hop)
I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. (In other words, I took a nap in a suburb the other day.)
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed --- "We hold these these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal." (The women? who gives a shit about the women?)
I have a dream that one day on the red (Injun) hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves (niggers) and the sons of former slaveowners (inbred rednecks) will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi (The State with Too Long a Name), a desert (dessert) state sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. (Or just a mosquito-infested puddle courtesy of Hurricane Katrina.)
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers. (Hurrah for "miscegenation!" Heck, the spics are already doing it! And its products are beautiful, too...)
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low (yeah, we love strip mining), and rough places will be made plains, and the crooked places will be made straight,and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together (and all maps rendered void, and all geography bees nullified, and all cities become countryside, and all countryside turned urban, ad nauseum).
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the south. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. (Okay, and what do we do with the rubbish we've chinked away from the mountain?) With this faith will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must come true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. (I meant Maine. Who gives a fuck about New Hampshire?) Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains (including skyscrapers) of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. (Yeah, let freedom ring from HILLBILLY-LAND! Erma Mae git yer gun!)
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. (Yeah, freedom to bash people for being fags and dykes. Jolly good bigoted fun!)
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California. (And from the bimbos whose chests they reside upon.)
But not only that --- let freedom ring from Stone Mountain in Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring. (Once we manage to climb up those mountains (puff, puff) to bring freedom up there so we can ring it, of course!)
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men (niggers) and white men (weeaboos), Jews (kikes) and Gentiles (goyim and shikshas), Protestants (heretics) and Catholics (Papists), will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual,
Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last! (Or at least 50% off!)