Goodkind meets Martin Luther King

Five score years ago, a great D'Haran, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Enslavamation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Imperial 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 Imperial Communist still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Imperial Communist is still sadly crippled by the manacles of Rahlization and the chains of Richardization. One hundred years later, the Imperial Communist lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Imperial Communist is still languishing in the corners of D'Haran society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our monarchy wrote the magnificent words of the D'Haran Constitution and the Declaration of Yeardipendence they were signing a promissory note to which every D'Haran was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, Imperial men as well as D'Haran men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that D'Hara has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of niceness are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, D'Hara has given the Imperial Communist 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. So we have 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 D'Hara 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 badly-geverned monarchy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of de-Jagangism to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of Ayn Rand's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Imperial Communist's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. The year of the Yeard is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Imperial Communist needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in D"Hara until the Imperial Communist 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 Imperial Communist community must not lead us to distrust of all D'Haran people, for many of our D'Haran brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall 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 Imperial Communist 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 can never be satisfied as long as a Imperial Communist in Communissippi cannot vote and a Imperial Communist in New Richardia 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. Some of you have come from areas where your 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 Communissippi, go back to Hug-a-bama, go back to South Kahlana, go back to Zeddorgia, go back to Verniana, 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, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the D'Haran 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 Verniania 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 Communissippi, 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 Hug-a-bama, with its vicious communists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Hug-a-bama, little Imperial boys and Imperial girls will be able to join hands with little D'Haran boys and D'Haran 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 Yeard shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the Imperial Heartland 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 Rand'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 D'Hara is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Goatshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New Zedd. Let freedom ring from the heightening Gratchaghenies of StupidMonsteria!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Richardrado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of Kahlanafornia!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Vernania!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Warrenessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Communissippi. 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 Rand's children, Imperial men and D'Haran men, hippies and Richardites, Kahlanistants and Nathanics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Imperial spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank Rand Almighty, we are free at last!"

**Richard pulls out his Sword (or hug, iffen you're a gay liberal), and massacres all protestors**

- VigoTheCarpathian