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What I said... I know.
That's exactly the point.
I do.
I'm skeptical of the decision making skills of the overly religious and question their ability to think critically, but I also understand the need some people have for that sort of thing. Facing reality head on takes a lot of fortitude.
No, people have a DESIRE for that kind of thing. Anyone who has a NEED, meaning they cannot live without it, has major psychological issues to deal with. Unfortunately, we've essentially allowed humanity to be weak, lacking that fortitude to just deal with reality as it is. I'd argue that said weakness is a major contributor to the majority of the world's problems. Anyone who really thinks they have an imaginary friend who helps them deal with real life is not someone I want in a position of power.
I don't understand it either since I'm not wired that way. But, what I do understand is that most people are wired that way. I do not know though if it is fear of the unknown, especially as it pertains to death, or a serious desire for comfort in a cold and random universe which drives them.
Racist, socialist, somewhat repentant at the end, but the damage was done.
What "damage"?
Racist socialist, sepratist, says "We cool" now at the end?
sorry, damage was donbe.
Again, what damage?
His reputation as someone who should be looked on favorably.
Oh I completely agree, which why I said I was on the fence rather than freakIng out and ranting about what an awful person he was. :2razz:
I'm just a really strong proponent of Gandhian/Thoreauan civil disobedience as an alternative to violence in the struggle for civil rights. Which is why I'm not a huge fan of Malcom X.
He was a racist, anti-American piece of ****.
Malcolm X’s father, Earl Little, was a favorite target of the Ku Klux Klan because of his support for civil rights leader Marcus Garvey and because he was a member of the Universal Negro Improvement Association.
“When my mother was pregnant with me, she told me later, a party of hooded Ku Klux Klan riders galloped up to our home in Omaha, Nebraska, one night. Surrounding the house, brandishing their shotguns and rifles, they shouted for my father to come out,” Malcolm X recalled later in his life. “My mother went to the front door and opened it. Standing where they could see her pregnant condition, she told them that she was alone with her three small children, and that my father was away, preaching in Milwaukee.
“The Klansmen warned her that we had better get out of town because ‘the good Christian white people’ were not going to stand for her husband ‘spreading trouble’ among the ‘good’ Negroes of Omaha with the ‘back to Africa’ preachings of Marcus Garvey.”
After the Little family moved to East Lansing, Michigan they were attacked by the Black Legion, a radical off shoot of the KKK.
“Shortly after my youngest sister was born came the nightmare night of 1929, my earliest vivid memory. I remember being suddenly snatched awake into a frightening confusion of pistol shots and shouting and smoke and flames,” Malcolm X later recalled. “My father had shouted and shot at the two white men who had set the fire and were running away. Our home was burning down around us. We were lunging and bumping and tumbling all over each other trying to escape. My mother, with the baby in her arms, just made it into the yard before the house crashed in, showing sparks.”
We suffer political oppression, economic exploitation and social degradation. All of 'em from the same enemy. The government has failed us. You can't deny that. Any time you're living in the 20th century, 1964, and you walking around here singing "We Shall Overcome," the government has failed you. This is part of what's wrong with you, you do too much singing. Today it's time to stop singing and start swinging.
The morning of the March, any rickety carloads of angry, dusty, sweating small-town Negroes would have gotten lost among the chartered jet planes, railroad cars, and air-conditioned buses. What originally was planned to be an angry riptide, one English newspaper aptly described now as "the gentle flood."
Talk about "integrated"! It was like salt and pepper. And, by now, there wasn't a single logistics aspect uncontrolled.
The marchers had been instructed to bring no signs--signs were provided. They had been told to sing one song: "We Shall Overcome." They had been told how to arrive, when, where to arrive, where to assemble, when to start marching, the route to march. First aid stations were strategically located--even where to faint!
Yes, I was there. I observed that circus. Who ever heard of angry revolutionists all harmonizing "We Shall Overcome. . .Suum Day. . ." while tripping and swaying along arm-in-arm with the very people they were supposed to be angrily revolting against? Who ever heard of angry revolutionists swinging their bare feet together with their oppressor in lily-pad park pools, with gospels and guitars and "I Have A Dream" speeches?
And the black masses in America were--and still are--having a nightmare.
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