This is not a meme. CNN chyron today.
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.)
"What was that for?" I asked, shocked. To which he replied, "Hey, that's what I do best. I drive people away."
When the bouncer tries to stop him, the guy says "let me through, I'm fucking rich." The bouncer, eager for a tip, lets him through. The guy proceeds right to the VIP section, past the ropes, and sits down at the best table. The bouncer tries to stop him again, but the guy says "I can sit wherever I want, I'm fucking rich." Again, the bouncer decides to let the guy sit down, still hoping for a big tip. The guy then walks behind the bar, grabs the most expensive top-shelf bottle, and takes it back to his table. The bouncer, realizing that the owner will fire him for letting a guest grab such an expensive bottle, stops the guy a third time and says "I don't care how wealthy you are, you can't have that bottle." All the sudden a huge man, dwarfing the bouncer, taps him on the shoulder and tells the bouncer to let the guy keep the bottle. Indignant at the bold statement, the bouncer replies "and who the hell are you?" "Rich."
When it's clear that Joe is dying, Mike visits him every day. One day Mike says, "Joe, we both loved football all our lives, and we played football on Saturdays together for so many years. Please do me one favour, when you get to Heaven, somehow you must let me know if there's football there." Joe looks up at Mike from his death bed, "Mike, you've been my best friend for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favour for you. Shortly after that, Joe passes away. A couple of nights later, at midnight, Mike is awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to him, "Mike–Mike." "Who is it ?" asks Mike sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?" "Mike–it's me, Joe." "You're not Joe. Joe just died." "I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insists the voice." "Joe! Where are you?" "In heaven", replies Joe. "I have some really good news and a little bad news." "Tell me the good news first," says Mike. "The good news," Joe says," is that there's football in heaven. Better yet, all of our old friends who died before us are here, too. Better than that, we're all young again. Better still, it's always spring time and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play football all we want, and we never get tired." That's fantastic," says Mike. "It's beyond my wildest dreams !" "So, what's the bad news ?" "You're in the team for this Saturday's match !!!"
"Sorry, your password has been in use for 90 days and has expired – you must register a new one." roses "Sorry, too few characters." pretty roses "Sorry, you must use at least one numerical character." 1 pretty rose "Sorry, you cannot use blank spaces." 1prettyrose "Sorry, you must use at least 10 different characters." 1fuckingprettyrose "Sorry, you must use at least one upper case character." 1FUCKINGprettyrose "Sorry, you cannot use more than one upper case character consecutively." 1FuckingPrettyRose "Sorry, you must use no fewer than 20 total characters." 1FuckingPrettyRoseShovedUpYourAssIfYouDon'tGiveMeAccessRightFuckingNow! "Sorry, you cannot use punctuation." 1FuckingPrettyRoseShovedUpYourAssIfYouDontGiveMeAccessRightFuckingNow "Sorry, that password is already in use."
My grandfather, who was in the army, once told me, “1940, I met my first love. 1946, my second. 1950, I met the woman of my dreams.”
“It was quite a hectic evening.”
Everyone keeps raving about their new deli…
Green “hon I dew” Orange “Can’t-elope….”
One’s a crusty bus station and the other is a busty crustacean.
I wanted to add definition to my muscles
The policeman says: “Sir, do you realize you were traveling at 130km per hour?” The electron goes: “Oh great, now I’m lost."
Yesterday, a beautiful girl asked me if I wanted to see a movie. She asked, “What would you like to see?”
I said, “You pick.” She said, “You pick.” I said, “I don’t care. You pick.” She said, “Sir, there are people behind you waiting to buy tickets.”
nsfw Sorry if I offended any of you. If you need some eyebleach I have a ton.
I think they're intoxicating people.
Two little boys stole a big bag of oranges from a neighbor and decided to go to a quiet place to share the lot equally.
Two little boys stole a big bag of oranges from a neighbor and decided to go to a quiet place to share the lot equally. One of them suggested the nearby cemetery. As they were jumping over the gate to enter the cemetery, two oranges fell out of the big bag but they didn't bother to pick them up since they had enough in the bag. Few minutes later, a drunkard on his way from a bar, passed near the cemetery gate and heard a voice saying: "One For Me, One For You, One For Me, One For You…". He immediately sobered up and ran as fast as he could to a nearby church requesting for the priest. "Father, pls come with me. Come and witness God and Satan sharing corpses at the cemetery". They both ran back to the cemetery gate and the voice continued: "One For Me, One For You, One For Me, One For You…". Suddenly, the voice stopped counting and said: "What About The Two At The Gate? Let's get them". You should see the marathon. The priest almost ran past the church gate shouting: "Please no! We are not dead yet".
"Don't do it! You have so much potential!"
As a butcher is shooing a dog from his shop,he sees a $10 and a note in his mouth, reading: “5 lamb chops, please.”
As a butcher is shooing a dog from his shop,he sees a $10 and a note in his mouth, reading: "5 lamb chops, please." Amazed, he takes the money, puts a bag of chops in the dog's mouth,and quickly closes the shop. He follows the dog and watches him wait for a green light, look both ways, and trot across the road to a bus-stop. The dog checks the timetable and sits on the bench. When a bus arrives, he walks around to the front and looks at the number, then boards the bus. The butcher follows, dumbstruck. As the bus travels out into the suburbs, the dog takes in the scenery. After awhile he stands on his back paws to push the "stop" bell, then the butcher follows him off. The dog runs up to a house and drops his bag on the step. He goes back down the path, takes a big run, and throws himself -Whap!- against the door. He does this again and again. No answer. So he jumps on a wall, walks around the garden, beats his head against a window, jumps off, and waits at the front door. A big guy opens it and starts cursing and shouting at the dog. The butcher runs up and screams at the guy: "What the hell are you doing? This dog's a genius!" The owner responds, "Genius, my ass……… It's the second time this week he's forgotten his keys!
..At Taco Bell.
You get repossessed.
Nobody expects the Spanish in position
A Popesicle! Get it? Because it's holy. My kids didn't get it either…
He died. It was a clean kill.
And he saw the kid eating a lot of chocolate, pack after pack… So the man asked the kid: do you think it's healthy for you eating all that chocolate? So the kid answered: My grandpa died at 100 years old -And you think it's because he ate chocolate? -No, it's because he minded his own business.
I didn't get the job.
Then I lost my job as a driver.
For Hispanic attacks.
But hay, it's in my jeans.
He's just not sure that radiocarbon is the most reliable method.
But, smoking bacon will cure it.