"The first book that King wrote, Stride Toward Freedom, was plagiarized from numerous sources, all unattributed, according to documentation recently assembled by sympathetic King scholars Keith D. Miller, Ira G. Zepp, Jr., and David J. Garrow."  Hoffman, ibid. 

Imagine, if you will, just how overwhelming King's stealing from true intellectuals for this particular book upon which he dared to place his own name might really have been, had the documentation been assembled by unsympathetic King scholars!

King never was to outgrow his need to steal the intellectual work of others.  For example, he lifted whole sections of his famous "I Have A Dream" speech from a sermon by 1950's black preacher Archibald Carey. 

Imagine that, if you will.  The single thing for which King is most revered and remembered is stolen, yet he gets to keep it.  It would be as if I traveled to Italy and carted home Michelangelo's statue of David, then crudely carved my name into its leg and claimed to be the sculptor.  Though many would prove that all I did was steal the statue, still I would be lauded endlessly for my artistic mastery in having sculpted it.  No - it is exactly....precisely....the exact, same thing!

Marchin' Lootin' Killin' Day

We should not honor such a misbegotten individual as Michael King, Jr.  Nor should we honor the nonexistent ideals that King supposedly has come to represent:  equal opportunity, brotherhood and overcoming prejudice.  Instead, we should take the opportunity to recognize all that Black America actually has come to represent to America:   advanced placement of the undeserving, hobbling those who excel to create a false image of equality, welfare entitlement mentality, spite and resentment on all sides.

Images of post-Katrina looting, whining and rampant lawlessness come to mind.  Demanding, always demanding that which they have not, will not and cannot earn for themselves.  Forever whining about nonexistent racial discrimination.  Justice Department figures of overwhelming Black on White crime, particularly rape and murder, far beyond what ever could be explained by differing social or economic circumstances, also come to mind.

If this must be MLK Day, then let those initials stand for what far too many American Negroes truly have become in an increasingly racially-divided and tense America:  Marchin' Lootin' and Killin' machines.  Yep.  Marchin' Lootin' Killin' Day.  Let the word go forth from this day forward that, no longer will we recognize the monster that Michael King, Jr. became and instead will let the day stand for what Black America has come to represent - what Black America does best:  Marchin' Lootin' Killin' Day.

Dreams of Camelot

I came of age just as America began its long, agonizing conversion into the dreadful, jack-booted creature that now strides back and forth across the globe, demanding, threatening, killing, maiming, taking and sermonizing to all. 

We all sensed that something significant had been lost when Jack Kennedy fell in Dallas that crisp November day in 1963, but we had no idea as to what was to come.  Most of us still are unable to define the problem, but at least now we all know that a serious problem has evolved.

Viet Nam still was but a vague cloud on a distant horizon. 

Our parents told us that we could be better than they and we believed them. 

We invented drugs, sex and rock 'n roll. 

Some of us marched for Black civil rights, at once naively and guiltily believing what we were told by college professors about social disadvantage, economic handicap and how we are all the same under the skin - how we all bleed red.  We forgot that every beast in the forest also bleeds red.  We had no idea that we were about to trade places with the Black man.

Our icons of liberalism and compassion in those days, Hubert Humphrey and Ted Kennedy, assured us that the changes they introduced with their new immigration reform bills would improve America.  Desperate to recapture the dreams of Camelot dashed with the loss of JFK, we had no idea that a tidal wave of unchecked immigration, composed of a hostile and aggressive people with no intention of assimilating, was about to sweep over America, forever changing her landscape.

Camelot Become Armageddon

We ignored rumors of conspiracy in one thing and another.  We denied the evidence of our own eyes.  We marched, unaware, into the maw of political correctness and proceeded to offer our children upon its altar.  Today, they serve in the priesthood of the horrible beast that has risen up and assumed control of all of America.

We never suspected that, when finally we were handed the keys to the executive washroom, the world we were promised had been traded in for the very thing against which our parents thought they had fought in World Wars I and II.

We easily could have stopped them in the Sixties, but had no idea of our power. 

We could have voted them out in the Seventies, but we vainly hoped for better times after our long journey into the nightmare that Viet Nam became. 

We could have pulled them from power and had them tried and convicted during the Nineties, but simple greed got the better of us. 

Now, as we approach our dotage, many of us realize what we have and have not done.  We are tired, many of us say.  That is but another excuse for not doing what we should have done so long ago.

The Great White Hope

If not now, when?  If not us, who? 

The time, at long last, has come.  Our time, my friends.  Because of our sloth, it will be a long, bitter and painful ordeal.  We have nobody to blame but ourselves for waiting this long.

But we will do it because it must be done and, always, our forebears have done what must be done.  Their blood flows in our veins today, as it does in our children.  That is how I know we will prevail in the end.  We always have.  We always will.  We have left ourselves no other choice.

New America.  An idea whose time has come.

My name is Edgar J. Steele.  Thanks for listening.  Please visit my web site, www.ConspiracyPenPal.com, for other messages just like this one.