“Come Monday…” is a weekly series that will involve a review of (or commentary about) websites, movies, documentaries, television shows, sports, music, and whatever else may tickle my fancy at the time. Be assured that these reviews will be generally positive, as in accordance to the Jimmy Buffett song “Come Monday.” This is subject to change, however. In fact, I would be most derelict in my duties to neglect going on a rant every once in a while. For rants promote change, and change can be good—right? Therefore, since good is generally considered as being a positive force in 99.3% of the parallel universes that I am aware of, even a rant could be considered as being something positive, and a genuine hissy-fit would be even better (so I’m told).
“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!” [Complete Text]
Quite sadly, [Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s dream] is not yet realized, and it will be a much longer time coming as long as the likes of [Rev. Jesse Jackson] and [Rev. Al Sharpton] can get their hands on at least a bullhorn. For there is much to be gained from racial rabble rousing.
Alas, it is mostly in regards to personal gain. For it does little good for the masses to promote the notion of racial prejudice being at the heart of almost every contentious situation between persons of different races.
Now, this is not to deny that we still have a long row to hoe. [Paula Deen] serves as all too painfully clear evidence of this, but the [encounter] between Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman was simply two fools colliding in the night.
Come on now, when you look at George Zimmerman, do you see a white man? He sure looks Hispanic to me, and yet, he has been consistently identified as a white man by those who want to keep racial tensions tight.
Okay, it would be promoting the agenda of those who love the look of flames from a burning cross reflecting off of white satin sheets in the dark of night to lump far too many in the same pot. For in all fairness, a great many of those going along with the flow of Zimmerman killing Martin for no other reason than that he was a suspicious black kid have no desire to keep racial tensions tight.
It is the same with the great overreaction to [Riley Cooper’s outburst]. For I have listened intently to Cooper’s [profuse apologies], and I see no reason for him having to receive [sensitivity training]—other than that the dictates of political correctness be followed without question.
Is it not time to question a lot of things? For how are we getting any closer to judging someone by the content of their character when a Riley Cooper is painted with the same brush as a Paula Deen?
Yes, what Cooper said was horrible, but he was simply being drunk and stupid at the time. Whereas, Deen honestly believes that black people are at least somewhat inferior to white people as solely a matter of race.
What is required is some common sense, my friends. For there is a big difference between someone saying something nasty in a drunken rage and a true believer in inequality. Hey, you would probably hear me using the “C” word (the one so beloved by the ladies that rhymes with runt) in reference to Paula Deen at times (for a number of very different reasons) if it was not for our Heavenly Father making some drastic changes to my character 20 years ago, and I have always been quite fond of women in general.
In all fairness, I might feel quite differently about political correctness if I was frequently being pulled over by the police for no other reason than just driving while black, but I do have some experience with profiling. For while I was walking around and looking at storefront displays in a section of downtown San Diego, California back in 1987, two different police cars pulled up to see what I was up to. When I explained that I was just killing some time while waiting for the load of construction materials that I had delivered to the job-site of a new hotel being built to be unloaded, the cops pulled off without any further ado, but it sure gave me a very uneasy feeling to know that the only reason why they had stopped by was on account of me not looking like I belonged in the area.
I also have some experience with being on the other side of pure racial prejudice. For while on a loading dock in New Jersey years ago, I came across a Black Muslim wearing a T-shirt depicting Christ Jesus as a black man. When he saw me looking at his shirt, he glared at me and said, “Yeah, that’s right. He was a black man!” In reply, I kinda chuckled and said, “I wouldn't care if He was purple as long as He loves me.” The Black Muslim responded with, “I know you think you’re being funny, but I’m not laughing,” (or something similar). I was then guided to a different part of the dock by another black man, who told me that the Black Muslim was looking for a fight. I do not remember just exactly what I said to him, but it was probably something about me welcoming the opportunity to clam the Black Muslim down a bit. For that was before our Heavenly Father rearranged my priorities, and I am now so very thankful for Him looking out for me as I stumbled through life as blind as anyone can be.
I could go on and on about being subjected to many insults on my character simply on account of being raised as a redneck, but far too many of you are still as blind as anyone can be. Besides, it all depends on which definition of redneck is used. For the kind of redneck I was raised to be is one who wants to live off of the land as much as possible by hunting and fishing, plays as hard as they work and will defend the right to bear arms with their last dying breath—not the kind who believes that white women should be kept in the kitchen and black men doing manual labor.
Sorry, I do not want to make Mexicans feel slighted. For the bad kind of a redneck would also have Mexican men doing manual labor.
Whoa, did I ever find out just how uncool it is to use “Mexican” as a generic Hispanic description in certain areas. For I was informed in no uncertain terms that most of the Hispanics around Miami, Florida were actually from Cuba, Puerto Rico, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Panama, the Bahamas, Jamaica, Haiti and the Dominican Republic, along with how much they hated being referred to as being “Mexicans.” Oh, and I was also informed of just much most Haitians hated being referred to as being Hispanic.
The truth of the matter is that most of us have been subjected to some form of prejudice for a number of different reasons, but this does not make it okay. Hence, the long row that we still have to hoe.
Would it be weird to dream of the day when a jerk is simply a jerk—regardless of the color of their skin or where they were raised? Yeah, it probably would be.
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