Martin’s Dream Revisited

(In an Invasion of the Body Snatchers-like turn of events, moments before he delivers his legendary “I Have a Dream” speech, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s body is hijacked by an invisible alien visiting from outer space, transforming him into Martian Luther King.  Let’s hear what he has to say.)

Martian Luther King

I have a dream that one day little black girls and little white boys will walk around crouched over handheld devices.  And each device will contain its own individual jingle.  And businessmen dressed up as cowboys will sing, “Ain’t you glad you’re single?”

I have a dream that one day people will be locked up not because they’ve committed armed robbery or murder, but because they’ve become hopelessly addicted to an illegal drug.  I have a dream today!

I have a dream that in a time not too far from now, cities will go bankrupt and banks will burp from the bellyaches they receive after eating those same cities.

I have a dream that wars will be fought not against fascism or imperial threats, or even to protect nations from terrorism, but to ensure that those self-same threats endure until the end of time!

I have a dream that leaders will no longer feel accountable to the people who voted them into power, but to the lobbyists who bankroll their election campaigns.

I have a dream that great nations will become oil-sucking vampires and drain the earth of that resource, spilling pools of blood in the process.

I have a dream that mining companies will blow the hell out of the prodigious mountaintops of Appalachia to feed people’s bottomless appetite for creature comforts and high-tech gadgetry.

I have a dream that people will rise up and protest on the weekends the same policies that their labors and leisures during the week help perpetuate.

I have a dream today.

So let freedom ring if your phone battery’s still alive.  And let drunken general managers of mighty weapons firms sing in karaoke bars with lampshades on their heads as they grope for the shapely backsides and bosoms of their repelled and unwilling secretaries.  Then, under the watchful eye of the all-seeing international security state, let us join handcuffed hands and say, “Me at last, me at last, thank God all whitey, we are me at last!”



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