I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the UEE Citizenship Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Test pilots 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 Testi still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Testi is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Testi lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of space and time. One hundred years later, the Testi is still languished in the corners of UEE society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our empire wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the War Declaration of Ingoonpendence, they were signing a promissory note to which every Citizen was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, Test pilots as well as Goons, would be guaranteed the "Unsnooable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Beer." It is obvious today that the UEE has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of Alliance are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, the UEE has given the Test pilots a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient lager."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of drunkness is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient drinks in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of beer.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind the UEE 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 democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of corporate justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of corporate injustice to the unstable rock of drunkness. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of BoodaBooda's newbros.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Test pilots legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of drunk fleets and beer. Twenty nine sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Testi needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in the UEE until the Testi 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 be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us 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 anger and shitposting. We must allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with beer force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Testi community must not lead us to a distrust of all Goons, for many of our bee brothers, as evidenced by their presence here in drunk fleet, have come to realize that their liquor is tied up with our lager. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always fly Auroras.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be sobered up?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Testi 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 alcohol, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the space highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Testies basic mobility is from a smaller station to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our newbros are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Bees Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Testi in Odin cannot vote and a Testi in Sol believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "beer rolls down like waters, and lager 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 ship cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for drunk fleet left you battered by the storms of jump camps 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 Odin, go back to Sol, go back to Castra, go back to Vega, go back to Chronos, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern systems, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of hangovers, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the UEE 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 pilots are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Jupiter, the sons of former Testis and the sons of former Goons will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the station of Perry, a station sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of greasy neckbeards, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little newbros will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their ship but by the content of their roleplaying.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Magnus, with its vicious factionists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "Kick" and "B0rt" -- one day right there in Magnus little newbros and newbrollets will be able to join hands with little bees as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be intoxicated, and every hill and mountain shall be made drunk, the rough places will be made drunk, and the crooked places will be made more drunk; "and the glory of BoodaBooda shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the station 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 cacophony of drunk fleet. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to drink together, to drink more together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of BoodaBooda's newbros will be able to sing with new meaning:
My Bengal 'tis of thee, sweet beer of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where EVE vets died, land of the Citizen's pride,
From every mountainside, let drunk fleet ring!
And if the UEE is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of Magnus.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of Sol.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Vega.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Gya.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of Garron.
But not only that:
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the UEE Citizenship Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Test pilots 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 Testi still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Testi is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Testi lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of space and time. One hundred years later, the Testi is still languished in the corners of UEE society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our empire wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the War Declaration of Ingoonpendence, they were signing a promissory note to which every Citizen was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, Test pilots as well as Goons, would be guaranteed the "Unsnooable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Beer." It is obvious today that the UEE has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of Alliance are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, the UEE has given the Test pilots a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient lager."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of drunkness is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient drinks in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of beer.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind the UEE 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 democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of corporate justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of corporate injustice to the unstable rock of drunkness. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of BoodaBooda's newbros.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Test pilots legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of drunk fleets and beer. Twenty nine sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Testi needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in the UEE until the Testi 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 be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us 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 anger and shitposting. We must allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with beer force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Testi community must not lead us to a distrust of all Goons, for many of our bee brothers, as evidenced by their presence here in drunk fleet, have come to realize that their liquor is tied up with our lager. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always fly Auroras.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be sobered up?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Testi 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 alcohol, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the space highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Testies basic mobility is from a smaller station to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our newbros are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Bees Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Testi in Odin cannot vote and a Testi in Sol believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "beer rolls down like waters, and lager 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 ship cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for drunk fleet left you battered by the storms of jump camps 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 Odin, go back to Sol, go back to Castra, go back to Vega, go back to Chronos, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern systems, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of hangovers, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the UEE 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 pilots are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Jupiter, the sons of former Testis and the sons of former Goons will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the station of Perry, a station sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of greasy neckbeards, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little newbros will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their ship but by the content of their roleplaying.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Magnus, with its vicious factionists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "Kick" and "B0rt" -- one day right there in Magnus little newbros and newbrollets will be able to join hands with little bees as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be intoxicated, and every hill and mountain shall be made drunk, the rough places will be made drunk, and the crooked places will be made more drunk; "and the glory of BoodaBooda shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the station 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 cacophony of drunk fleet. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to drink together, to drink more together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of BoodaBooda's newbros will be able to sing with new meaning:
My Bengal 'tis of thee, sweet beer of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where EVE vets died, land of the Citizen's pride,
From every mountainside, let drunk fleet ring!
And if the UEE is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of Magnus.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of Sol.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Vega.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Gya.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of Garron.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stoned Mountain of Vendetta.
Let freedom ring from Lookout battery of Virgil.
Let freedom ring from every hill and shithole of Vanguard.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every planet and every system, we will be able to speed up that day when all of BoodaBooda's newbros, Testies and Goons, Ratters and Explorers, Pirates and Smugglers, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Testi spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank BoodaBooda Almighty, we are free at last!
Let freedom ring from Lookout battery of Virgil.
Let freedom ring from every hill and shithole of Vanguard.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every planet and every system, we will be able to speed up that day when all of BoodaBooda's newbros, Testies and Goons, Ratters and Explorers, Pirates and Smugglers, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Testi spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank BoodaBooda Almighty, we are free at last!
Last edited:
