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C.P. is having one of those days where she feels like she's ten different people. In and out of her sanity she can catch herself talking to herself as if she was having a conversation with someone there. This didn't give many comfort as she walked by people doing this, but she was not at a fault, this was an illness she was dealing with for her whole life. Later on, she notices that she's walking in a more populated area. Then it was getting to a point where you she was squeezing between people just to get by. Deep into the masses, someone took over her. C.P. walked towards an opening in the crowd and projected her voice.
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as a great representation for this thing of ours.
Many years ago, a great Mobster, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, made an oath in Sicily to live and obey by the principles of this thing of ours. This momentous decree came as a great stepping stone of hope to thousands of mobsters who had been seared in the flames of the federal law. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But many years later, a Mobster still is not free. Many years later, the life of a Mobster is still sadly crippled by the manacles of broken omerta and the merciless chains of justice. Many years later, a Mobster lives on an island of paranoia in the midst of a vast ocean of opportunities and dreams. Many years later, a Mobster is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile from his own street. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to these shores to cash a check for a better life and to explore profitable revenue. When the ancestors of our bloodlines wrote the magnificent words of loyalty, omerta, and respect they were signing a promissory note to which every Mobster was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all mobsters would be guaranteed the unalienable respect of this thing of ours and to give fair pursuit of starting their own family. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, there has been numerous snitches in America that given the mafia people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds".
But we refuse to believe that the streets of America are bankrupt. We refuse to believe there's no profitable revenue in the famous eight cities of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us the riches to the black market and the security to carry on with our businesses.
We have also come to this land of opportunity to continue and remind America's future generation of the fierce principles our ancestors taught us in Sicily. This is no time to allow any activities with the police or to take for granted the fair circumstance of gangsterism. Now is the time to make real the promises of omerta. Now is the time to rise from the streets and break away from the claws of justice so we can send a message that nothing will ever hold us down! Now is the time to lift this thing of ours from the quicksands of justice to the solid rock of mobster-hood. Now is the time to crumble justice so this thing of ours lives on forever!
It would be fatal for us and our future generations to overlook the urgency of now. This oppresive summer of the Mobster's ongoing battle will not cease until there is an rejuvenating autumn of fair understanding and equal opportunity to live our lives the way we were taught. Nineteen thirties is not an end, but a beginning! Envious people, like the snitches and feds, dearly hope that the Mobster falls short of success but little do they know most of us are sitting rich, or even extremely rich! And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Mobster is granted sole ownership of the streets where we constantly shed blood and sweat on a daily basis. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of this nation's government until the bright day of Mobster-hood emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on soap boxes, in coffee shops, on the streets, and in the back alley's: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not feel guilty of wrongful deeds or when we act as God by ending lives with a single touch of our finger. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for power by drinking from the cup of disbelief and demoralization. We must forever conduct our principles on the high planes of money, power, and respect. We must not let this thing of ours degenerate into our adversary's way of life. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting federal force with mafia force.
The shameful state of broken omerta has engulfed the Mobster community like a plague, we must not trust those who are not a friend of ours. As evidenced by our presence here today, let our adversary realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their free will of living is inextricably bound to ours.
We cannot stand alone!
And as we unite, we must make the pledge to shoot off every officer's head.
There are those who are asking, "When will you be satisfied?". We can never be satisfied when the Mobster is the victim to the unfair ways of police captivity. We can never be satisfied as long as our family members, who we admire the most, live in fear due to the high rate of getting locked up behind bars. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Mobster's mobility is restricted to only eight cities. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are being pulled to the side by cops and later interrogated as if they were grown adults. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until this thing of ours prevails!
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh off the boat. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for survival left you battered by the storms of the law and staggered by the winds of police investigations. You have been the veterans of dodging unexpected heat. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to St. Louis, go back to Chicago, go back to Detroit, go back to New Orleans, go back to the streets of the eastern and western cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed!
Let us not wallow in the valley of disapproval, I say to you today, my fellow mobsters.
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 Mafia dream.
I have a dream that one day this thing of ours will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "I'm going to make him an offer that he can't refuse."
I have a dream that one day in the bare streets of Detroit, there will be someone fulfilling of what use to be a highly famed city.
I have a dream that one day even the city of Delaware, a city sweltering with the heat of viruses, sweltering with the heat of zombies, will be transformed into a prosperous city that's fair game for all.
I have a dream that my four little lunatics will one day live in a Mobster-hood where they will not be pulled aside and questioned because of their Sicilian background.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, on the great streets of Philadelphia, with its renowned Godfather, that the streets of Market, Chesnut, Walnut, and Broad will be paved for miles on end while the city's people worship the Godfather as their god.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day you won't ever have to worry about the unspeakable horrors of Bubba, and one day most gun malfuctions won't have you running into the police's arms, and one day jails won't be used anymore, but instead, you'll just end up throwing people in there for fun and develop a stellar jail breaking skill.
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to everday with my family and home.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out loads and sell them without a care. With this faith, we will be able to transform the futures of our next generation to a universal symphony of Mobster-hood. With this faith, we will be able to expand our business districts far beyond belief some day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of mobstery, of thee I sing.
Land where my Bosses have died, land of the Godfather's pride,
From every city, let gunshots ring!
And if America is the place to be, then this must become true.
So let gunshots ring from city hall in Philadelphia.
Let gunshots ring from the triborough of New York.
Let gunshots ring from the Mississippi River that runs by the city of St. Louis.
Let gunshots ring from all casinos in Las Vegas.
Let gunshots ring from the windy city of Chicago.
Let gunshots ring from Bourbon Street in New Orleans.
Let gunshot ring from the Booming city of Los Angeles.
From every city, let gunshots ring!
And when this happens, when we ring of our gunshots, when we let it ring from every city, the whole justice department will know they're in hell!
C.P. drops to her knees and stares into the sky.
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
Her viens stopped buldging out of her neck from talking so loud. She gets back up on her feet, looks at everybody, and then extis the crowd while everybody watches her silenty.
(OOC Disclaimer: This is simply a parady of Martin Luther King's speech, no intentional plagiarism was involved) |
