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Ever have one of those dreams that makes perfect sense until you wake up?

Last posted May 22, 2010 at 04:51PM EDT. Added May 21, 2010 at 05:29PM EDT
12 posts from 11 users

In last night’s set of dreams, I played some old computer game about demons, got upset at my mother when she joined a message board I frequent, later hacked into that message board to delete her account, had an SS officer yell at me for not keeping my bedroom clean and then he threw all my clothes off the bed and then we were making out. :<

It seemed real enough at the time. Mostly because my “normal” dreams are cartoons, more often than not. (‘-’ )

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, 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. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we’ve 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, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the “unalienable Rights” of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”

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. And so, we’ve 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. 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 lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. 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. And 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. And 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 foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

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. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always 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 the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. 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 our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: “For Whites Only.” We cannot 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.”¹

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 jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. 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.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

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, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification” -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”2

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we 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.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with 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 become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of 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.

And when this happens, when we allow 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 and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, 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!3

I once had a dream that my house was on fire. I put it out with a big ol’ fire hose. When I went inside, my room was the only one with scorch marks. I thought to myself, “screw this,” and then I had a dream that this other dude and I both had Spiderman powers and we battled good-naturedly in the rafters of a baseball stadium.

About two or three nights ago, I had a completely British dream. I talked with a Brit accent complete with Brit slang and it all took place in Britain during the Golden Age of Invention and Innovation. This dream even had tea, crumpets, monocles, top hats, you name it! Anyways, in this dream, I was somehow the inventor of the small headphones people use to listen to their iPods even though iPods obviously didn’t exist at the time.

All of this made sense while I was having the dream. It is probably one of my best dreams ever. I felt great.

And then I woke up.

All my hopes of becoming someone of great importance back in that era crumbled right there and then on my bed. Damn you, real world!

Well…

I’m a born again Fifth Worlder.

Fifth Worlders are indigenous people too. They are webindigenous.

Native Americans and Native Webians are both Fifth World peoples. The differences between the two are that Native Americans are territorial Indians, while Native Webians are technological Indians. Both are not understood or loved by the Usurpehttp://images.wikia.com/common/skins/common/images/button_bold.png Bold textrs, who are not just White people, but of many races, and these worship their city-state governed and capitalistic way of living (civilisation).

The Dalai Lama doesn’t believe Web nations are real nations, yet he still wants your vote, and your money. Save your money for your own Tibet on the Web!

I’m not White, or Black, or Yellow, or Red, or any of the shades in between. My colour is Indigo.

I pledge allegiance to the Earth, but even more to the Cesidian Root!

Leave the ghetto man. The dot-ORG ghetto of the Legacy System.

The fact that 25% of human genes are the same as those of a banana, doesn’t prove you are a banana. The fact that 98% of the human genes are the same as those of a monkey, doesn’t prove you are a monkey. These facts only prove just how irrelevant genes are in the making of what you truly are: a God in human form.

The only thing you have the power to do in Western, civilised democracies, are things that don’t give you power. Civilisation is not about sharing power, but about usurping it for personal or group advantage.

Women’s lib is fine. Everyone’s lib is better.

Don’t kid yourself. The only prisons that exist are the ones you work in, and for nothing. And those are the only political prisoners that deserve to be freed!

Do not question technology. Make it part of the natural environment, without destroying the natural environment.

Just because governments deny that the Fifth World exists doesn’t mean they are right, or saying the truth. They deny that UFOs exist too, and I’ve seen them twice.

God is coming, and They are pissed.

Tribalisation is the radical notion that Fifth World nations are states.

From roots come trees, and from trees come forests. From the Cesidian Root come domains, and from domains come Webs, Worldwide Webs.

Support organic farmers. Support organic webmasters too!

Don’t kid yourself. The only rights that can be taken away, were not rights to begin with, but privileges, and in Western, civilised democracies that’s all you have, and all you will ever have.

If the Americas are “Indian Country”, then who were the Original Settlers of the Web? You’ve got it right this time: The People, and The People aren’t a race, or a country, but a World in itself.

Jesus is not a liberal. Jesus is liberty.

God is too big for any religion. Jesus too.

Fifth Worlders don’t separate politics from religion, anymore than they separate men from women.

People who badmouth religion forget that if they have a Sabbath, or a Sunday, it is because of the Original Labour Movement, the one before materialistic Marx and bloodsucking unions.

Women who badmouth men forget that if they have any rights at all today, it is because of the Original Feminist, who wasn’t a woman, and was actually born in a cave in Bethlehem.

http://fifthworld.wikia.com/wiki/Meditations_by_Saint_Cesidio

Last edited May 22, 2010 at 04:51PM EDT
Skeletor-sm

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