Sad truth of batman
….thank you for the dad jokes. They may not all make us die laughing and some we've heard you tell a million times over, but the one thing they have in common is that they're told in kindness and they put a little smile on our faces. And living in this crazy world, that's a very good thing. I love you dad.
As she rode by. She looked at me, gave me the finger, and turned back around and promptly plowed her bike into the cow. I tried.
Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. PHD’s Letter From Birmingham Jail, his response to southern religious leaders accusing his protest movement of being too extremist and badly timed.
I highly suggest everyone reads the full text of the letter linked at the bottom of this post. The mod team was deliberating for days to think of what sections we should link to as an excerpt in this post, when we realized that we were just copying the entire letter at one point. Every word King writes here is powerful.You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham. But your statement, I am sorry to say, fails to express a similar concern for the conditions that brought about the demonstrations. I am sure that none of you would want to rest content with the superficial kind of social analysis that deals merely with effects and does not grapple with underlying causes. It is unfortunate that demonstrations are taking place in Birmingham, but it is even more unfortunate that the city’s white power structure left the Negro community with no alternative.[…]My friends, I must say to you that we have not made a single gain in civil rights without determined legal and nonviolent pressure. Lamentably, it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily. Individuals may see the moral light and voluntarily give up their unjust posture; but, as Reinhold Niebuhr has reminded us, groups tend to be more immoral than individuals.We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was “well timed” in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.”We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five year old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,” and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness”–then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws. This is certainly a legitimate concern. Since we so diligently urge people to obey the Supreme Court’s decision of 1954 outlawing segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws. One may well ask: “How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?” The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.”[…]Sometimes a law is just on its face and unjust in its application. For instance, I have been arrested on a charge of parading without a permit. Now, there is nothing wrong in having an ordinance which requires a permit for a parade. But such an ordinance becomes unjust when it is used to maintain segregation and to deny citizens the First-Amendment privilege of peaceful assembly and protest.[…]I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality. Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.[…]I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother in Texas. He writes: “All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth.” Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.[…]And I am further convinced that if our white brothers dismiss as “rabble rousers” and “outside agitators” those of us who employ nonviolent direct action, and if they refuse to support our nonviolent efforts, millions of Negroes will, out of frustration and despair, seek solace and security in black nationalist ideologies–a development that would inevitably lead to a frightening racial nightmare.Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The yearning for freedom eventually manifests itself, and that is what has happened to the American Negro. Something within has reminded him of his birthright of freedom, and something without has reminded him that it can be gained. Consciously or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgeist, and with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow brothers of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the United States Negro is moving with a sense of great urgency toward the promised land of racial justice. If one recognizes this vital urge that has engulfed the Negro community, one should readily understand why public demonstrations are taking place. The Negro has many pent up resentments and latent frustrations, and he must release them. So let him march; let him make prayer pilgrimages to the city hall; let him go on freedom rides -and try to understand why he must do so. If his repressed emotions are not released in nonviolent ways, they will seek expression through violence; this is not a threat but a fact of history. So I have not said to my people: “Get rid of your discontent.” Rather, I have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed extremist. But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label.https://ift.tt/2UjhbQc /r/PoliticalHumor mod team decided that this sticky would be a much more effective support action than shutting down the subreddit or other standard Reddit protests, because honestly, those protests don’t do much.)
He’s standing right behind you.
A guy walks into a bar with his pet monkey, orders a drink and while he’s drinking it, the monkey jumps around all over, grabs some olives off the bar, eats them, grabs some sliced limes, eats them, jumps up on the pool table, grabs a cue ball, sticks it in his mouth and swallows it whole.
The bartender screams at the guy, “Did you see what your monkey just did?” The guy says, “No, what?” “He just ate the cue ball off my pool table, whole!” says the bartender. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.” replied the patron. “He eats everything in sight. I’ll pay for the cue ball and stuff.” He finishes his drink, pays his bill, and leaves. Two weeks later he’s in the bar again and he has his monkey with him. He orders a drink and the monkey starts running around the bar again. While the man is drinking his drink, the monkey finds a maraschino cherry on the bar. He grabs it, sticks it up his butt, pulls it out, and eats it. The bartender is disgusted. “Did you see what your monkey did now?”, he asks. “Now what?”, responds the patron. “Well, he stuck a maraschino cherry up his butt, then pulled it out and ate it!” says the barkeeper. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.” replied the patron. “He still eats everything in sight, but ever since he ate that cue ball he measures everything first!”
I should have bought asparagus
It cost him an arm and a leg.
Americans really do hate the metric system.
The Queen of England was visiting one of London's top hospitals recently, and during her tour of the floors she passed a room where a male patient was masturbating. "Oh my god!", said the Queen, "That's disgraceful, what is the meaning of this???" The doctor leading the tour explains, "I'm sorry your majesty, this man has a very serious condition where the testicles rapidly fill with semen. If he doesn't do that five times a day, they would explode and he would most likely die instantly." "Oh, I am sorry" said the Queen. On the next floor they passed a room where a young nurse was giving a patient a blowjob. "Oh my God", said the Queen, "What's happening in there?" The Doctor replied, "Same problem, better health plan."
Simple, put it in water. If it sinks, it's a girl ant. If it floats, buoyant.
The other night at a party, I got a little tipsy, so I left the car behind and took the bus home. It was great because along the way, while cars were being stopped for breathalyzers, the police just waved the bus right through and I was able to get home. In the end, I had no idea I could drive a bus, but I did a pretty good job
The attack made headlines.
They cant Elope…
Each day he stops and looks in the window to admire the Armani leather shoes. He wants those shoes so much…it's all he can think about. After about 2 months he saves the price of the shoes, $300, and purchases them. Every Friday night the Italian community holds a dance in the church basement. Luigi seizes this opportunity to wear his new Armani leather shoes for the first time. He asks Sophia to dance and as they dance he asks her, 'Sophia, do you wear red panties tonight?' Startled, Sophia replies, 'Yes, Luigi , I do wear red panties tonight, But how do you know?' Luigi answers, 'I see the reflection in my new $300 Armani leather shoes. How do you like them?' Next he asks Rosa to dance, and after a few minutes he asks, 'Rosa , do you wear white panties tonight?' Rosa answers, 'Yes, Luigi , I do, But how do you know that?' He replies, 'I see the reflection in my new $300Armani leather shoes.. . How do you like them?' Now as the evening is almost over and the last song is being played, Luigi asks Carmela to dance. Midway through the dance his face turns red… He states, 'Carmela, be stilla my heart, Please, please tell me you wear no panties tonight,Please, please, tella me this true!' Carmela smiles coyly and answers, 'Yes Luigi , I wear no panties tonight…' Luigi gasps, 'Thank God … I thought I had a CRACK in my $300 Armani leather shoes……….!'.
Their doctor tells them that many people find it useful to write themselves little notes. When they get home, the wife says, "Dear, will you please go to the kitchen and get me a dish of ice cream? And maybe write that down so you won't forget?" "Nonsense," says the husband, "I can remember a dish of ice cream." "Well," says the wife, "I'd also like some strawberries and whipped cream on it." "My memory's not all that bad," says the husband. "No problem – a dish of ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream. I don't need to write it down." He goes into the kitchen; his wife hears pots and pans banging around. The husband finally emerges from the kitchen and presents his wife with a plate of bacon and eggs. She looks at the plate and asks, "Hey, where's the toast I asked for?"
Apparently 1080p wasn't the best answer.
“No idea, they just ransomware.”
Nothing, it just lets out a little wine.
Unfortunately it was at Taco Bell.
The father said: "Why, my son, it is a 'chechia.' In the desert it protects our heads from the intense heat of the sun.” "And what is the long flowing robe you are wearing?” asked the boy. “Oh, my son!” exclaimed the father “It is very simple. This is a 'djbellah.' As I have told you, in the desert it is not only very hot, but the sand is always blowing. My djbellah protects the entire body." The son then asked: "But Father, what about those ugly shoes you have on your feet?” "These are 'babouches' my son,” the father replied. You must understand that although the desert sands are very beautiful, they are also extremely hot. These babouches keep us from burning our feet." "So tell me then," added the boy. "Yes, my son…” "Why are we living in Birmingham and still wearing all this bollocks?
I have no words for how angry I am.
He's alright now
Would it then be called an Edison?
But when i got out of prison, it was totally worth it
Why do I keep hearing about cases of it?
I watch it online, because I can’t afford it.
I don’t know I don’t have 2020 vision
We had our ups and downs but I'll still miss it