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Arch-Angel

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About Arch-Angel

  • Rank
    Fluidic Master Defeated
  • Birthday 12/19/1991

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Boston, Massachusetts
  • Interests
    The People

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  • Website URL
    http://www.google.com
  • AIM
    Jon Batista 91
  1. You see, based on that title, I thought the following entry would something like: OH MAMA MIA OH MAMA MIA MAMA MIA LET ME GO BEELZEBUBS HAS A DEVIL PUT ASIDE FOR ME FOR ME FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE *SOLO* ~AA
  2. Video of Speech 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 Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves 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 Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American 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 republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds 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 justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America 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 racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro 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 America until the Negro 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 not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not 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 dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. 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 march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro 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 travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness 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 jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution 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 Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, 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 American 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 men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord 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 South 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 symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle 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 God's children will be able to sing with new meaning: My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, From every mountainside, let freedom ring! And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that: Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring. And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
  3. Arch-Angel

    Please Pray

    My prayers will go out for his recovery. ~AA
  4. Recently, Mae and I have hit one of the biggest rough patches we've ever faced together, but for reasons of her own privacy and potentially maybe graphically and possibly legal reasons, I can't disclose that information. She and I are still strong and we still love each other, so to be honest, I'm just happy I can still hold her in my arms. If any of you have been praying for me recently, I owe you more thanks than you realize. Thank you. On to other things about life, I'm not sure if any of you realized this, but "The Day After Tomorrow" was playing outside my window outside, and must I say, it was boring. Like, I didn't get any wolves chasing me, New York is not flooded or a frozen tundra, I didn't get the chance to take refuge in a library, I didn't run away from ice, and I still make fun of Al Gore just because I make fun of everyone equally out of general principle. Diversity doesn't mean we shouldn't mock each other. So yes, I have won the 6-Day weekend as much of New England has, and get more time to study for Midterms. Or to spend it just like "Snow Day" like the younger version of Josh Peck did (anyone remember that Nick movie? No? Dang it, I'm getting old.) So, I'm continuing my work with the GSA, and we're off to starting the Ceiling Tile Project mentioned in the last entry and I've decided that won't be the only thing I'll be doing. I want to support many a charity and humanitarian effort in the world, including Save Darfur and American Eagle's Help Haiti Heal T-Shirts. I want to see if I can go to the Dominican Republic or Haiti this summer or, what I want to do even more, go to Africa (preferably help in the refugee camps in Chad from those who escaped genocide in Darfur). Oh, in case you all didn't know, THERE IS A GENOCIDE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. Seriously, it ain't "Hakuna Matata" there right now. Or a Disney version of Hamlet either. Update yourselves. Aside of knowing what I want to do for the rest of my life, I'm also going to be applying for a community college to get core classes out of the way. It'll reduce the cost of college if I attend for two years, potentially get a job if I get an Associate's degree, and getting job and acting at the same time is possible. And if I make money from acting, then guess who's donating even more money to relief efforts? You don't have to be rich or famous or important to help people. ~AA
  5. Dudes, people are kissing and stuff in your banners and avatars. This better last until February 15th, so we can go back to hating, but still love Ireland (because they're next on the holiday magic list!) ~AA
  6. How long in (We are obnoxiously the best city) Boston (because a band named themselves after it), Massachusetts? ~AA
  7. The GSA stands for the Gay/Straight Alliance. Recently, I have joined my school's GSA. Not due to my political opinion on gay rights or anything pertaining to my sexual orientation. I think I realized what I want to in life the most. I think I want, more than anything, is to fight for equal rights. Whatever one's political opinion may be. So, since the GSA at my school is large in size but small in... doing anything, I decided to take an initiative and get started on something called, "The Dream Project". The idea of the project is to spread the message of Anti-Bullying and Suicide Prevention. Letting kids know there are proper adults ready, willing and able to talk to you if you ever felt targeted or had dark thoughts. So Dream Project is the major title, while the project itself is many little projects which include: -The Ceiling Tile Project -Starbucks Coffee Bake Sale -UNOs Doughraiser -Barnes & Noble Book Fair -Other potential fundraisers and cause outreaches The Ceiling Tile Project is a concept I came up with when I saw an art student's work in my class. He painted a picture of his girlfriend on a ceiling tile, and put it up in all of her classes. Why? They had to be separated because her parents extremely disliked him. They came around, but still, it was a message to her that he was always there with her. It was sweet. The story made me tear up. Then I went into business mode and capitalized on that. Paint the ceiling tiles of multiple classrooms (the Principal approves and loves this idea and wants it IN ALL CLASSROOMS, if the teachers are willing) and have it start classroom discussions when a student asks about the tile. "Why does that tile mean?" "It's in memory of a student who died because he was bullied." Well, that hits home. Raise your hand if you been bullied or have bullied. Raise your hand if you have thought of taking your own life. Statistically, that's a lot of high school and middle school students. I also want the project to be "alive" as well. Or as I like to call it, "with a pulse." The teachers can switch around tiles, so that there is never one tile that is painted that melts into the background. Teachers in Massachusetts and in many other states are required to discuss issues about bullying and report concern for a student if signals are sent. So, why not try to change the world, even as small as a school? Oh, and when this Ceiling Tile Project is done, we're going to ask the middle schools if they like this. I've gotten the interest of other GSAs in neighboring towns to do this. Keep in mind, The Dream Project isn't just for gay anti-bullying or gay suicide prevention, but AGAINST ALL BULLYING AND ALL SUICIDES OF ANY FORM. Away from the Ceiling Tile Project, there is also the matter of funds. The GSA has none. It has no need for funds. Well, that don't sit well with Jonny, because Jonny likes funds. The GSA at my school forget the meaning of the word "Cause". So The fundraisers are being made to make funds to put into our bank account (they forgot they are also a non-profit organization) and at the end of the year, we pick where we'd like to donate that money. The money more than likely will go to a support group clinic or Teen Outreach that counsels depressed teens and/or adults, or churches or temples that have support groups or group therapy. That's what a Cause needs to do. It needs to actually do. So, I guess you can say I'm in Cause Marketing. Because change in the world doesn't happen unless you try to change the world. ~AA
  8. Technically, there is something everywhere, except the vacuum in space. Oxygen and nitrogen and other gases. SCIENCE! ~AA
  9. Sell it on eBay. Probably goes for 200 bucks because people like buying broken things and fixing them. ~AA
  10. Legna-Hcra! I sound like an Orc war cry! ~AA
  11. Arch-Angel

    Bitter Coffee

    It's a story I written to get some stress out last night. It didn't happen, but thank you for the compliment! ~AA
  12. Arch-Angel

    Bitter Coffee

    The bitter taste of the Starbucks coffee was hardly a concern. Normally, Chris would complain about how it tasted a bit processed and that he wasn't about to put in a fifth Splenda, but today wasn't one of those days. Today was the day Chris needed to rest himself, his mind, and his heart. It's been a while since he has had to make a decision he believed would mark the rest of his life. He chose to be answerable or accountable, reliable or dependable, and to be focused on one thing. Responsibility. For a person. This person wasn't as any person, as he just agreed to be there for that person. Through thick and thin, and for as long as need be. As long as possible. It his Erica, his girlfriend, for Pete sake, but he felt, in some way, now tying the knot. No ring, no Bachelor's party, no wedding, no reception, no Honeymoon. Married. He felt married. "Since when does it feel this bad?" He thought to himself, "Why am I not happy? Do I not love her?" His coffee cup, cardboard, bony white with green, Mother Nature logo, was still in his right hand. His cell phone in the other. The most important phone call he might ever had, on the most typical day. It just hit him that the taste was sitting in his mouth, getting worse as it dried up as he left his jaw hang while in plaguing thought. He hasn't been responsible for anything in so long. He's gone to college, he got his degree in English, he worked his way into Grad School, but that was just passable to him. He could've decided to live his life extremely different. His parents had money, they were happily married, and it seemed that they haven't lived a hardship since Chris's Appendicitis scare when he was fifteen. And that was because it was a camping trip. Yes, he felt lucky to have survived, but he isn't traumatized by it anymore. It was a medical emergency in the middle of the woods, and it was treated. That's it. But this, this was something different. He repeated the words in his head, and he didn't like them. He didn't believe himself. It wasn't true to him. "We're having a baby. You're going to be a father." "How do tell someone that on the phone?" He said out loud, realizing he spoke too loudly. Some people looked up, then went back to their original preoccupation, believing it was just better to leave the lone coffee drinker to settle his own stress. It's the smart option: someone is in distress, so best not to get involved and let them handle it. It's their problem, they'll sort it out. Heck, they might become a stronger person. And when they have kids and grand-kids, that person can help them through that stress because life blessed them with the opportunity to learn from trial and tribulation. "Kids?" Chris whispered in thought, "Grand-kids, even?" The thought of it made his head spin like a dreidel. He wasn't going to let his kid do this in life. Not make the same mistake. "Mistake! No! Not a mistake! He is not going to be a mistake!" He shouted in his thoughts, "He is a blessing! A wonderful surprise!" He looked down at his coffee, still bitter, still warm. Then Chris realized that he just gave the baby a gender. He realized he subconsciously wanted a son. He thought of the baby as a boy, and not only just a boy: his boy. His son. He imagined a tiny newborn, so adorable and so at rest, with not a care in the world as he cradled the child in his arms. He wanted to protect that little one. His little one. He was going to grow up. Get his first baseball cap. Become a Yankees fan because he wanted to be different, and to tease his old man when the Sox lost a game to them. And they would play catch, and he would go to school. And he would study hard, and he would work hard, and he would be a great athlete, and would go to college. And Chris wanted to love him all the way. And even if he didn't do any of that, he would support him. If he got bad grades? Help him out. If he didn't know how to work? Teach him. If he wasn't good at sports and liked acting or singing or whatever? Help him become more then he imagined. If he was gay... well, even then, he was going to love that little boy that he once held in his arms. And at church, or at barbecues, or at parties, he would wrap his arm around the boy's shoulders, bring him up to his friends, and say, "Hey fellas, I want you to meet my boy." He laughed to himself and thought, "I love the son I don't even know I'm having. Oh, my gosh." He chuckled some more. The entire time he was sitting there for at least an hour. His butt felt numb, and he realized he was sick and tired of Starbucks' ###### chairs. Their natural glow and fake wood panels. Their funny way of saying sizes like Grande and Venti. Most of all, he was tired of buying the same burnt and bitter coffee and hating it, then coming back the next day to buy it again. It was a habit. It was ritual and he just realized it. Here he is, right now, sitting in a Starbucks, not doing anything. Now, he has to do something. He is going to drive to Erica's house and tell her that he was going to stay by her. Through thick and thin. He is going to tell her that he was going to take responsibility, and he was going start making changes in his life for this child. The boy he never met, but loved so much. He got up from the uncomfortable chair. He grabbed his coat. He took his coffee and headed to the door. He dropped the half-empty coffee cup right into the trashcan and watched it fall like a rock. The lid opened up, and the brown liquid spread out and released itself from the cardboard prison. He stepped out of the cafe, and he took a breath of the crisp, fall air and felt the chill go up his spine, and underneath his skin, feeling every one of his hairs stand up with pride. He swallowed, and remembering the taste of the past, knowing it would be the last time he ever would. His phone began to ring. "Chris, I'm so sorry. I read the box wrong." ~AA
  13. Phantom of the Opera. 'Nuff said. ~AA
  14. Kinda wanna play the Terrorist card... Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... ~AA
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