I had a dream last night that me and Martin Luther King, Jr. were hanging out on the couch having a totally deep conversation about 'the struggle.' He wept because
he felt his burden was just too big. I wept because I felt it, too. We were just so tired and frustrated with all the hate and racism in the world, me and MLK. I, of course, assured him that his struggle and his work, when he was alive, was righteous and that I was here to keep it up. We cried. we hugged. I have such an inflated sense of self-importance that I am comparing my work in the world (which at this point consists of reading the tax code in the dungeon) with the lifetime work of MLK, greatest civil rights leader ever and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. Excellent.
I swear I stashed some tequila around here somewhere...
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As you appear to be unfamiliar with the Reverend's work, let me assure you he encouraged working side by side with people of all colors, including the white folks. People disagreed with his beliefs about cooperation and splintered off, i.e. to the Black Panthers and Malcolm X.
And of course, the most ridiculous aspect of my dream is that I was white. Not the fact that I was weeping next to an assasinated Nobel winner and assuring him that his work was meaningful.
Why you always gotta be hatin' on me?
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