This is a very famous speech. It was also lost in the mist of time. Shame, because it's still relevant. Or should I say relevant AGAIN?
I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an Emperor - that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone, if possible -- Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another; human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone.
The way of life can be free and beautiful.
But we have lost the way.
Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.
The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people.
To those who can hear me I say, "Do not despair." The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass and dictators die; and the power they took from the people will return to the people and so long as men die, liberty will never perish.
Soldiers: Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you, who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel; who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate; only the unloved hate, the unloved and the unnatural.
Soldiers: Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written, "the kingdom of God is within man" -- not one man, nor a group of men, but in all men, in you, you the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.
Then, in the name of democracy, let us use that power! Let us all unite!! Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie! They do not fulfill their promise; they never will. Dictators free themselves, but they enslave the people!! Now, let us fight to fulfill that promise!! Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.
Soldiers: In the name of democracy, let us all unite!!!
Hannah, can you hear me? Wherever you are, look up, Hannah. The clouds are lifting. The sun is breaking through. We are coming out of the darkness into the light. We are coming into a new world, a kindlier world, where men will rise above their hate, their greed and brutality.
Look up, Hannah. The soul of man has been given wings, and at last he is beginning to fly. He is flying into the rainbow -- into the light of hope, into the future, the glorious future that belongs to you, to me, and to all of us. Look up, Hannah. Look up.
Charles Chaplin in "The Great Dictator"
Monday, October 31, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Kate - QUEEN of the Mountain!
WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
She's back! Finally Kate is back!
*Jumps up and down*
*Feels 18-years old again for a moment*
Watch the streaming video of "King of the Mountain" here.
Official releasedate of the double-CD : november 7th.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
She's back! Finally Kate is back!
*Jumps up and down*
*Feels 18-years old again for a moment*
Watch the streaming video of "King of the Mountain" here.
Official releasedate of the double-CD : november 7th.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Champagne in one hand - strawberries in the other...
I found this one as the signature of a colleague of mine over at www.jmsnews.com It sounds a bit like what Mayor John Amalfi said in 'Cities in Flight' and I cannot agree more.
So I nicked it... :)
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, Champagne in one hand - strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming WOW - What a RIDE!"
So I nicked it... :)
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, Champagne in one hand - strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming WOW - What a RIDE!"
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
The artist known as Joe
This was an episode of Spiderman written just after 9/11. It may be somewhat old but in my opinion it has eternal value. That's why I post it here. It cannot be posted enough.
Some things are beyond words. Beyond comprehension. Beyond forgiveness. How do you say, "we didn't know"? We couldn't imagine. Only madmen could contain the thought, execute the act, fly the planes. The sane world will always be vulnerable to madmen, because we cannot go where they go to conceive of such things.
We could not see it coming. We could not be here before it happened. We could not stop it. But we are here now. You cannot see us for the dust, but we are here. You cannot hear us for the cries, but we are here. Even those we thought our enemies are here, because some things surpass rivalries and borders.
Because the story of humanity is written not in towers but in tears. In the common coin of blood and bone. In the voice that speaks within even the worst of us and says -this is not right-. Because even the worst of us, however scarred, are still human. Still feel. Still mourn the random death of innocents.
We are here. But with our costumes and our powers we are writ small by the true heroes. Those who face fire without fear or armor. Those who step into the darkness without assurances of ever walking out again, because they know there are others waiting in the dark. Awaiting salvation. Awaiting word. Awaiting justice.
Ordinary men. Ordinary women. Made extraordinary by acts of compassion. And courage. And terrible sacrifice. Ordinary men. Ordinary women. Refusing to surrender.
Ordinary men and ordinary women refusing to accept the self-serving proclamations of holy warriors of every stripe, who announce that somehow we had this coming. We reject them in the knowledge that our tragedy is greater than the sum of our transgressions. Bodies in freefall on the evening news. Madness in mosques, shouting down fourteen centuries of earnest prayers, forgetting the lessons of crusades past- That the most harmed are the least deserving.
There are no words. The death of innocents and the death of innocence. Rage compounded upon rage, rage enough to blot out the sun. And the air is filled with questions. They ask the question, 'Why, why? My god, why?' I have seen other worlds and other spaces. I have walked with gods and wept with angels. But to my shame I have no answers.
What -do- we tell the children? Do we tell them evil is a foreign face? No. The evil is the thought behind the face, and it can look just like yours. Do we tell them evil is tangible, with defined borders and names and geometries and destinies? No. They will have nightmares enough. Perhaps we tell them that we are sorry. Sorry that we were not able to deliver unto them the world we wished them to have. That our eagerness to shout is not the equal of our eagerness to listen. That the burdens of distant people are the responsibility of all men and women of conscience, or their burdens will one day become our tragedy.
Or perhaps we simply tell them that we love them, and that we will protect them. That we would give our lives for theirs and do it gladly, so great is the burden of our love. In a universe of gameboys and VCRs, it is, perhaps, an insubstantial gift. But it is the only one that will wash away the tears and knit the wounds and make the world a sane place to live in.
We could not see it coming. No one could. We could not stop it. No one could. But we are here. Now. With you. Today. Tomorrow. And the day after. We live in each blow you strike for infinite justice, but always in the hope of infinite wisdom. Because we live as well in the quiet turning of your considered conscience. The voice that says -all wars have innocents-. The voice that says you are a kind and merciful people.
The voice that says do not do as they do, or the war is lost before it is even begun. Do not let that knowledge be washed away in blood. When you move, we will move with you. Where you go, we will go with you. Where you are, we are in you. Because the future belongs to ordinary men and ordinary women, and that future must be built free of such acts as these, must be fought for and renewed like fresh water. Because a message must be sent to those who mistake compassion for weakness. A message sent across six thousand years of recorded blood and struggle.
And the message is this:
Whatever our history, whatever the root of our surnames, we remain a good and decent people, and we will not bow down and we do not give up. The fire of the human spirit cannot be quenched by bomb blasts or body counts-cannot be intimidated forever into silence or drowned by tears.
We have endured worse before; we will bear this burden and all that come hereafter, because that's what ordinary men and women do. No matter what. This has not weakened us. It has only made us stronger.
In recent years we as a people have been tribalized and factionalized by a thousand casual unkindnesses. But in this, we are one. Flags sprout in uncommon places, the ground made fertil by tears and shared resolve. We have become one in our grief. We are now one in our determination. One as we recover. One as we rebuild.
You wanted to send a message to us, and in doing so you awakened us from our self-involvement. Message received. Look for your reply in thunder.
In such days as these are heroes born. The true heroes of the twenty-first century. You, the human being singular. You, who are nobler than you know and stronger than you think. You, the heroes of this moment, chosen out of history.
We stand blinded by the light of your unbroken will. Before that light, no darkness can prevail. They knocked down two tall towers. In their memory, draft a covenant with your conscience, that we will create a world in which such things need not occur.
A world which will not require apologies to children, but also a world whose paved roads are not paved with the husks of their inalienable rights. They knocked down two towers. Graft now their echo onto your spine. Become girders and glass, stone and steel. So that when the world sees you, it sees them. And stand tall. Stand tall.
Joe Michael Straczinsky
Some things are beyond words. Beyond comprehension. Beyond forgiveness. How do you say, "we didn't know"? We couldn't imagine. Only madmen could contain the thought, execute the act, fly the planes. The sane world will always be vulnerable to madmen, because we cannot go where they go to conceive of such things.
We could not see it coming. We could not be here before it happened. We could not stop it. But we are here now. You cannot see us for the dust, but we are here. You cannot hear us for the cries, but we are here. Even those we thought our enemies are here, because some things surpass rivalries and borders.
Because the story of humanity is written not in towers but in tears. In the common coin of blood and bone. In the voice that speaks within even the worst of us and says -this is not right-. Because even the worst of us, however scarred, are still human. Still feel. Still mourn the random death of innocents.
We are here. But with our costumes and our powers we are writ small by the true heroes. Those who face fire without fear or armor. Those who step into the darkness without assurances of ever walking out again, because they know there are others waiting in the dark. Awaiting salvation. Awaiting word. Awaiting justice.
Ordinary men. Ordinary women. Made extraordinary by acts of compassion. And courage. And terrible sacrifice. Ordinary men. Ordinary women. Refusing to surrender.
Ordinary men and ordinary women refusing to accept the self-serving proclamations of holy warriors of every stripe, who announce that somehow we had this coming. We reject them in the knowledge that our tragedy is greater than the sum of our transgressions. Bodies in freefall on the evening news. Madness in mosques, shouting down fourteen centuries of earnest prayers, forgetting the lessons of crusades past- That the most harmed are the least deserving.
There are no words. The death of innocents and the death of innocence. Rage compounded upon rage, rage enough to blot out the sun. And the air is filled with questions. They ask the question, 'Why, why? My god, why?' I have seen other worlds and other spaces. I have walked with gods and wept with angels. But to my shame I have no answers.
What -do- we tell the children? Do we tell them evil is a foreign face? No. The evil is the thought behind the face, and it can look just like yours. Do we tell them evil is tangible, with defined borders and names and geometries and destinies? No. They will have nightmares enough. Perhaps we tell them that we are sorry. Sorry that we were not able to deliver unto them the world we wished them to have. That our eagerness to shout is not the equal of our eagerness to listen. That the burdens of distant people are the responsibility of all men and women of conscience, or their burdens will one day become our tragedy.
Or perhaps we simply tell them that we love them, and that we will protect them. That we would give our lives for theirs and do it gladly, so great is the burden of our love. In a universe of gameboys and VCRs, it is, perhaps, an insubstantial gift. But it is the only one that will wash away the tears and knit the wounds and make the world a sane place to live in.
We could not see it coming. No one could. We could not stop it. No one could. But we are here. Now. With you. Today. Tomorrow. And the day after. We live in each blow you strike for infinite justice, but always in the hope of infinite wisdom. Because we live as well in the quiet turning of your considered conscience. The voice that says -all wars have innocents-. The voice that says you are a kind and merciful people.
The voice that says do not do as they do, or the war is lost before it is even begun. Do not let that knowledge be washed away in blood. When you move, we will move with you. Where you go, we will go with you. Where you are, we are in you. Because the future belongs to ordinary men and ordinary women, and that future must be built free of such acts as these, must be fought for and renewed like fresh water. Because a message must be sent to those who mistake compassion for weakness. A message sent across six thousand years of recorded blood and struggle.
And the message is this:
Whatever our history, whatever the root of our surnames, we remain a good and decent people, and we will not bow down and we do not give up. The fire of the human spirit cannot be quenched by bomb blasts or body counts-cannot be intimidated forever into silence or drowned by tears.
We have endured worse before; we will bear this burden and all that come hereafter, because that's what ordinary men and women do. No matter what. This has not weakened us. It has only made us stronger.
In recent years we as a people have been tribalized and factionalized by a thousand casual unkindnesses. But in this, we are one. Flags sprout in uncommon places, the ground made fertil by tears and shared resolve. We have become one in our grief. We are now one in our determination. One as we recover. One as we rebuild.
You wanted to send a message to us, and in doing so you awakened us from our self-involvement. Message received. Look for your reply in thunder.
In such days as these are heroes born. The true heroes of the twenty-first century. You, the human being singular. You, who are nobler than you know and stronger than you think. You, the heroes of this moment, chosen out of history.
We stand blinded by the light of your unbroken will. Before that light, no darkness can prevail. They knocked down two tall towers. In their memory, draft a covenant with your conscience, that we will create a world in which such things need not occur.
A world which will not require apologies to children, but also a world whose paved roads are not paved with the husks of their inalienable rights. They knocked down two towers. Graft now their echo onto your spine. Become girders and glass, stone and steel. So that when the world sees you, it sees them. And stand tall. Stand tall.
Joe Michael Straczinsky
Monday, October 17, 2005
Unpaid taxes, it's the thought that counts...
Just when you think life can't get any more bureaucratic you get this...
Friday, October 07, 2005
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