Happy Martin Luther King Day

We don't celebrate Martin Luther King Day in Canada, which is a shame. Sure Martin Luther King Jr. is an American hero, and a powerful symbol in the American civil rights movement, but damn it, his actions and his words resonate beyond America's borders, even way up here in the frosty North.

My 11-year-old daughter, who was supposed to be cleaning her room, came to me, calender in hand, and said she didn't have to clean her room today because it was a holiday. First I said, um no it is isn't, and then I asked her if she knew who Martin Luther King was. She did not, which is also a shame, and yes she was sent back to clean her room.

We could use a holiday in the middle of January, and Canada, despite it's long history, hasn't got its own powerfully symbolic civil rights figure (Louis Riel?). Why not piggyback on a worthy American symbol? If only to teach my daughter Doctor King's story alone. Her lack of knowledge of  Doctor King is on me, Emily is home schooled, I have no one to blame for that, now, but myself. So, in honour of Martn Luther King Jr, and in the hopes of teaching Emily a little about the Civil Rights Movement (blaxploitation movie night is next) here is video of Doctor King's 'I had a dream' speech, followed by its full text.

 

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 languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful 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, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

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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. 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. 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 quick sands 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. 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 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. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
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 selfhood 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.
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. 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. 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, 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, 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.
This is our hope. 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.
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 become true. 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 snowcapped 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 to 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!"

This One Goes Out To The CRTC.

Dire Straits - Money For Nothing [1984 @ Yahoo! Video

Show Some Love To The CBC

Wanking Bankers

Hat tip to The Galloping Beaver

Typing While The Sun Shines

Here I sit, the sun bursting through living room windows. XTC's Dear God, blasting out of laptop speakers. What's next? Maybe a pot of coffee, I am not sure I can face the blinking cursor yet. It all seems so daunting. I feel like I am above my head, like I am drowning in a sea of words without structure. Someone please throw me a life preserver. Someone give me a project. I am devoid of inspiration, I am tempted to say, fuck it all, and play video games.

I return for the kitchen, coffee brewing. A big chunk of cheese consumed. I wonder why I put conditioner in my hair, all it does is make it puffy and even more unmanageable. Yes, folks, that's how my brain works. It flits from this to that.

I must avoid Twitter, thankfully the place is as sparse as the audience at a Pauly Shore movie. I swear I hear crickets. Then there is Facebook, the news sites, fantasy sports, You Tube, there is time suckage with every click. I must avoid the Web, lest I get tangled, lest the huge man-eating spider of distraction devours me whole.

 The coffee must be brewed, back to the kitchen I go. Oh and ya, I just checked in on Twitter.  Goddamn it I am weak. The coffee will help, but I wish it was red wine. Bitch, bitch, bitch, why the malaise? Truthfully, ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls, I am not that down. This is just a way for me to get out of a creative funk. I try and write through it. I describe it, I try and make other folks feel for my situation. Writer's block, of course, is nothing new, nor is it unique to me, all of us that like to think we have a way with words, fall into the abyss, all of us lose our way sometimes.

So yes, the sun still shines, and I have typed a few words. Thistles & Weeds, by Mumford & Sons, will be the song blasted in closing. Once again I avoided the file that contains my novel. I just can't face that beast today. I have also ignored the unfinished post about the failure of American liberalism, does anyone really care about that on a sunny Sunday? And yet, I have written, I have pounded, if only  for a few minutes, like a monkey with keyboard. The result, is nothing but a bitch, a whine, and a lament about writer's block. A subject I have tackled a few times on this blog. A topic, I bet, that I will write about again. A malady to which there is no real cure. One can only get through it using whatever trick they think might work best. Today, I bitched.

Dear God, sorry to disturb you, but... I feel that I should be heard
Loud and clear. We all need a big reduction in amount of tears ~ Dear God, XTC 

Spare me your judgments and spare me your dreams, 
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams ~ Thistle & Weeds, Mumford & Sons

Dear America,

Hi, Joe here, you know, that Canadian guy, the one with the unhealthy obsession with your wacky political system. Canadian, yes, and I bet that was as far as any teabaggers got into this letter. My bad, I scared them off, what with my unabashed socialism and potential illegal immigrant status. The truth is, and you might want to skip this part righties (if you are still reading) I was a card-carrying Communist in my 20's. It was the 90s, I thought, foolishly, that such an out-there political stance might better endear me to some of the more hip of the lady folk. It, of course, didn't, and now I am at risk of making an appearance on Glenn  Beck's chalk board. Man I miss Joseph McCarthy, he was always my favorite Beatle.

Where was I? Oh right, I was writing a letter to the 310,232,863 or so citizens of the country to the south of me. Or more specifically, the 207,643,594 of those folks that are eligible to vote. Go here, then here, to see where I got those crazy numbers. Why am I writing this letter? Is this not electoral interference from a foreigner...sure, and why not? If I am going to subjected to an unending stream of political madness, whether it be through the mass media (those bastards! Thanks Sarah), or social media (screw you Zuckerberg) then damn it, I am going to have my say. Freedom of expression baby!

The American Midterm Elections are unavoidable. These are ghoulish times; filled with witches, grizzly mamas, and Muslim Presidents. A time where fired former correspondents become high paid pundits, where comedians have become the voice of reason. If you are a politico, like I am, this is like Woodstock, but Woodstock experienced after sipping too much of the wrong sort of Kool-Aide. OH YEAH!

All I ask, dear neighbours, dear cousins, dear friends, is that you vote wisely. Leave your guts (and yes you all are American and your guts are substantial), guns, bibles, and prejudices at home. Vote for the best candidate, not the fringe candidate. I can understand voter apathy, I know things are tough, I get the anger, but voting for a candidate that represents only anger, and only apathy, will get you a lame duck elected member. Vote for the best and the brightest, not the loudest and densest. Here is a simple way to pick a candidate; vote for the one that ran the least amount attack ads. Vote for the candidate that talks to the press, not the one that avoids and ridicules the press. Vote for the candidate that has ideas that are their own, not the one that spouts catch phrases and talking points. If there was political debate, vote for the person that won that debate. Please, just vote smart.

You might be asking; why do I care? You might think I am nothing but an uppity, judgmental Canadian, or as we like to call ourselves, the liberal elite. Well here goes, I care because, much to the sometimes chagrin of the rest of the world, when America farts, everyone else smells it. The world just went through the last time America cowboyed up, went rogue, and overreacted, and quite frankly, those wounds have yet to heal. The rest of us, those of us, that have no right to participate in cause, but every ability to feel the effect, just want America to be reasonable for awhile. Just until the pain subsides, and we stop limping. We just want some normalcy. The circus is great fun from time to time, but cleaning up elephant shit is the worst job ever. We need a break, we're calling time out.

In closing, I love you, I wish you nothing but happiness and prosperity, but please, don't fuck this all up for the rest of us.

Hugs xoxoxo
Joe

Watch this, it's important.