Independence Day: A Walk In An Armed Camp

I saw this display as I was on my way home 

from work and went back on Independence Day 

for a picture. Given the area where I live, 

I'm not at all certain the man who put up this flag 

and I would agree on anything except 

that this country is in distress.

Yesterday, the city of Indianapolis lost another policeman, 

a twenty-two year veteran, when he was shot 

with a semi-automatic weapon by a known felon;

bullets from the gun were so powerful they 

ripped through the officer's vest. This is the third man 

killed in the line of duty and the eighth shot 

in the past eighteen months. ER docs, who tend to

the victims of these crimes, see this as a major

public health crisis.

On the one hand, you have an entire culture of 

villains with access to firearms who use them at the 

slightest provocation. Friday night, seven people were shot

when one man became upset when another man

bumped into him. On other occasions, police will go

to the site of a reported shooting to find no 

victims, but they will find a great number of shell

casings. It's as though it's evidence of

premature ejaculation, with the casings the

spendings from a violent ecstasy spread

all over the sordid alleyways.

And then there are the other idiots, the ones

who insist on their right to bear arms, as designated

by the Second Amendment. Well, that's another

fantasy, with those folks thinking their right to carry

a weapon will automatically render them safe

from harm. Hell, if they were to be attacked by a robber,

they'd be dead on the ground before they could draw

their own penile extension. In those cases, the attacker

would already have their weapon drawn,

meaning the "victim" would virtually have to walk

around with his gun in his hand and -- there you

have it, another idiot showing his dick.

In between, there are the normal, every day folk

who just try to go about their business

while walking between these two armed camps.

It is an appalling reality, with the flowers

and beauty of the season stained with blood

and intractable stupidity all around.

    

Psychedelic Cow Patties

It's a cow patty cupcake-palooza!

Technicolor invites to sugar comas to last 

through the July 4th weekend.

Eat one, get an insulin spike and nod off

'til the fireworks start.

Eat the whole carton and you'll never

know the explosions and "rockets' red glare"

ever occurred.

Below, a baker has sketched an outline 

for the on-going penis sweepstakes

over on the wonderful Cake Wrecks website.

This one is ready for a personal message: 

"Dear Mr. Grey, I've found a fifty-first shade 

I want to try with you." 

The cawlerin' on this cake seems 

a tad pissy, though.

A Community Fourth

The bounce castle at the local Lions' Club Fourth of July celebration,

held Thursday afternoon at Meadowood Park, was

a popular attraction. At times it seemed to bounce and

jiggle to the rhythms of the Starlighters,

a local band that played patriotic-themed arrangements,

as well as big band tunes. 

While a few people actually danced, 

others seemed to be just thrilled enough to sit.

A local caterer provided standard summer fare - 

fried chicken, potato salad, cole slaw, 

and hot dogs for the kids, if they wanted them. 

Everyone sat and visited in a

big blue and white tent as they ate their meals.

Competitive juices flowed among participants, 

young and old, who met in the pavilion 

after the band concert to compete in a cake walk; 

for 50 cents one could circle around 

til the music stopped, and, if one happened

to be standing on the number that was called,

one got their choice of numerous cakes.

  

*One* put up $2, and didn't get so much 

as a sniff of a brownie.

A caricature artist was on hand to make 

drawings for those who wanted them.

The days activities were overwhelming for at least

one tiny person, who slept through much of the revelry

just a few feet away from her tiny head.

Red, White, and Something Near Blue

All around the town, all over the country, 

people will be gathering to celebrate the Fourth of July, 

the 237th anniversary of the signing of 

the Declaration of Independence.

There will be ice cream socials, picnics, carnivals,

concerts by brass bands and orchestras,

culminating in the fireworks displays

guaranteed to produce "Ooohs" and "Aaahs"

from children of all ages.  

I've become jaded by fireworks, however, because, 

for me, the best and the worse display ever

took place on the Ohio River in August, 2003.

Putting on a Good Face

The older homes in Speedway have been undergoing 

a revival in recent years. When I moved here in the late

1970's, the town was nice, comfy and had good schools but

many of the houses looked dowdy in their faded, 

dull vinyl or aluminum siding and chipped paint. 

Slowly they began to change,as though 

someone discovered "good bones" beneath 

the ill-fitting wardrobes. The place has become 

brighter, and the houses are beginning to show bright

individuality, even with welcoming trees.  

"I Have A Dream"

I chose to post this transcript of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr's speech 

as a reminder that this pertains to all of us.

As long as the wealthy, the people in power, 

the "special interests"

can keep us fighting each other, 

then they are forever the 1 per cent in control --

over us, the 99 per cent.

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."

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."

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!

       Speech delivered by Rev Martin Luther King, Jr.,

    August 23, 1963

 at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington, DC

And then there's this