It is extremely important that you pay very close attention tonight, ladies and gentlemen, because part of the beginning of this may be a little bit difficult for some of you to understand exactly where it is that I am taking you.
But if you are willing to bear with me, I will take you to an answer.
Hopefully to several answers.
I hope to instill, once again, in your heart, in your heart, ladies and gentlemen, a feeling of understanding.
A feeling of belonging.
A feeling that, yes, there is something worth fighting for.
And even though many of you have not been able to verbalize it, have not really been able to put your finger on it, hopefully, by the end of this hour, you will.
You see, what I'm going to talk about tonight, ladies and gentlemen, is the loss of innocence.
And I can't take you back any farther than my own life.
For this has all occurred, in my understanding, within the fifty-three years that I have lived upon this earth.
I have lived in the best of times, the ultimate success and happiness of the people of this until today when we are on the verge, the edge of the cliff
over which it is all going to topple.
Over the mountain, across the sea, there's a girl waiting for me.
She's got me going up, going down.
Hey my love, I love you more and more.
I love you more and more.
Come on, baby, let me feel your soul.
Come on, baby, let's go down the road.
Oh, all night long.
Come on, baby, let's do this thing.
This is something I just can't keep.
Come on, baby, let's go down the road.
Oh, all night long.
Come on baby, let's kill this song üne
ün ün
會 안
ün ün
ün Ladies and gentlemen, when you contrast the music from that
era with the music of this era that is being promulgated among the youth of this
country, you can see a difference that is staggering.
It is equivalent to the distance between the Earth and the star Alpha Centauri.
There is a gulf so wide It is not a gemigration gap, ladies and gentlemen.
It is an innocence gap.
It is the difference between childhood and a forced, a forced, and I'll say it again, a forced Something that is shoved down the throats of the youth of today's generation that makes them old way before their time.
You see, most of our children have bypassed their childhood.
They're dealing with knowledge and subjects and feelings and urges and passions way beyond their years.
It's something that I thank God was not foisted upon me, for I truly lived and enjoyed a most wonderful childhood.
Now, I'm not going to try to con anybody and tell you that every single person that lived in this country and every race and every religion enjoyed this same experience that I enjoyed.
Because that would not be a true statement.
But I will tell you that in the history of the world, and in the history of this nation, everyone who lived here had a life so much better than their parents and grandparents, that it was a leap almost beyond the belief of human experience.
And yes, that applies to blacks, and orientals, and American, Indians, everyone.
It was an age of innocence, and where everybody did not have exactly the same opportunities, and while some were oppressed wrongly, and should not have been, it was a time when everyone was enjoying a life that was fuller, richer, wealthier, more promising, and there was not one single person in this country, especially amongst all the nations of the earth, who could not enjoy pride in what they did
Who could feel valuable because they contributed.
It was before the welfare state.
When jobs were plentiful and if a man or a woman was out of work, it's because they wanted to be.
Where if a man or a woman or a child did not have an education, it's because they did not wish to learn.
Because it was available to all people in this country, everywhere, of every religion, every race, every creed, in every state of the United States of America.
And no, I'm not overlooking segregation and the terrible consequences of racism.
Our sexism, or any of the other things.
But you see, we cannot look back upon history and judge a time by the social mores and the standards of the time in which we live.
It just cannot be done.
You see, it is impossible for any people at any time in history to judge
any people at any time previous to that history according to the status, the freedom, the social noise, the
ethics or the morality.
the ethics or the morality.
to which that particular population had achieved.
I'm not justifying the situations that some people found themselves in, or were subjects
to, that we now know was wrong.
I'm not justifying the situations that some people found themselves in, or were subjects to, that we now know was
wrong.
What I am telling you, ladies and gentlemen, is that of the entire history of the world, that was the best time for all of the peoples who lived in this country up to that moment.
Since then, some of the people who lived in that time have experienced a better time.
As far as having the burden of segregation, racial prejudice Sexual prejudice.
And many other things lifted from them.
And many would argue that those burdens have not been lifted even unto this day.
But I would argue that point.
I'm looking around and I see those who will not be victims are not victims.
And I'm not experiencing what the whiners and crybabies wish to burden the rest of us with.
When I meet a black person who, without ever knowing who I am, speaking with me, interacting with me, doing business with me, visiting my home, or any other interaction whatsoever, labels me as a white, racist, hunky bigot, I know that I'm looking at a miserable, very miserable, Professional chronic victim.
And that person is not going to succeed in life, because they have saddled themselves with a yoke of misery and persecution that is not coming from me.
For I've been fighting my entire life against that very thing, against racism, against bigotry, against sexism, against inequality, for I am truly Truly, an advocate of freedom for all peoples, of all races, all religions, and all ancestral origins.
I have never owned slaves, never persecuted anyone because of race, religion, Skin color.
Ancestral origin.
in my entire life.
And I didn't in this time that I'm discussing tonight.
Thank you.
And neither did many others.
You see this?
This aura of mistaken illusions that we have to be pitted against each other because of the color of our skin, our sex, our place of ancestral origin, conflicts that occurred hundreds of years ago, or any other reason.
These things are carefully fomented by the enemies of freedom.
So that while we are going about the business of destroying each other, there are a few going about placing the chains upon all of our ankles.
It's called the Biden-Conkretz, the Hegelian dialectic.
And it's done by many other
means also.
Thank you.
And I'm going to try to take you into my childhood, not saying that we all had the same childhood, or that everybody experienced the same thing.
But I'm going to tell you that now nobody in this country is experiencing what I experienced when I was young.
And even though some people may consider themselves freer, and that they may have more opportunity than they did during that time, they too have lost innocence, and their children are being forced Yes, forced, it's being shoved down their throats to adopt and understand and know and act the role of adults long before the time that they should.
It is a loss, a true loss of innocence.
My mother didn't come from any wealthy family, although she is, in the truest sense of the
word, a very classic Southern woman with the manners and the cooking skills and the religious
foundation.
Thank you.
And the belief in the good of humanity and other people that she was taught.
She came from a large family and early in her life she had to be placed in an orphanage by her mother because her father died and left the family destitute.
A mother could not feed all the children, so my mother was placed in an orphanage.
Where she learned cleanliness, I can tell you that, because she was put to work scrubbing bathrooms and floors and walls and banisters and staircases and dishes and everything, and that's how they kept these children busy and out of trouble.
Working scrubbing everything from the roof to the floor.
Every day, all day, always.
She told me stories about this.
She never forgot it.
She didn't like it.
But all through her life, she kept our home spotlessly clean.
My father was born in Wilson, Oklahoma.
His father was the son of a couple who had staked out 640 acres of land in the opening of the Cherokee Strip in the great land rush of the Indian Territory, built their home with their hands, farmed the land, and raised many children, one of which was my grandfather.
My grandfather married a poor girl who was the daughter of parents who had crossed this
country in covered wagons, and their first home was a sod house dug out of the ground
in the prairie in West Texas.
Her father was one of the first oil workers.
Oil well workers, when they dug the wells by hand, in the ground, just as they dug water wells.
I have a picture of my great-grandfather on my grandmother's side, standing in front of a saloon with his friend, and each of them had Colt, peacemakers, the gun that won the rest, stuck in their belts.
Not in holsters.
They didn't look like anything that you ever saw in the movies.
that these were rugged men, dangerous men, if they had to be.
My father met my mother in Long Beach, California, and they married.
They were both very young.
And I was born in Bigsby Knolls Maternity Hospital in California on May the 6th, 1943.
It was during the war. My father was an Air Force officer, a pilot.
I don't recall too much about my youngest childhood, as most people do not,
except that I very seldom ever saw my father around, for he was off doing things for the war effort.
Then after the war, he was sent to the Philippines for two years.
We lived in Long Beach with my mother's relatives.
The next thing that I clearly remember was that he was stationed at some Air Force base
in Illinois, and we lived in a little town called O'Fallon, which is one of the most
beautiful cities in my memory.
We'll see you next time.
There was no crime that I knew of.
All of us children played outside all day long, and nobody ever bothered us.
We were not threatened.
If we wanted a drink of water and we were several houses down from our own home, we could just knock on the door and ask for a glass of water.
None of the doors were ever locked.
No one ever refused us.
everyone was polite and nice, decent people. I never knew anyone who was robbed or murdered
Never saw anyone attacked or beaten or killed.
Never was afraid to go anywhere.
And we would play out late at night when there was no danger at all.
And when my mother called us in and put us to bed, we went to bed with the innocent dreams of children who knew nothing about Rape or murder or dead bodies or blood or explosions or all of the things that children watch day after day and night after night on television.
Our dreams were about playing kick the can with our friends.
They were about birthday cakes.
They were about sun gays and blue skies with white puffy clouds and bees buzzing around the flowers.
I'm just sitting on the grass.
They were about books.
Wonderful books with wonderful stories.
Because there may have been television in those days, ladies and gentlemen, but we didn't have it.
Didn't know anything about it.
Never heard of it, as a matter of fact.
My parents may have, but I certainly didn't.
I went to the first grade in O'Fallon, Illinois.
Went to the second grade again in Long Beach, California.
I don't know why we went from O'Fallon, Illinois to Long Beach, California.
And if I ever knew, I've forgotten it.
But I remember that the second grade in Long Beach, California was a step down from the first grade in Illinois.
In other words, in Illinois I was learning how to read and write.
I was learning how to spell.
I was learning how to add 1 and 1 is 2 and 2 and 2 is 4 and blah blah blah blah blah.
When I went to California to the second grade, what we spent our time doing was building out of blocks and cardboard, let's pretend, dairies where the cows were milked on the floor.
And when we finished with that, we built an airport.
And then when we finished building the airport and building the airplanes and all of those things, then we went on a field trip to see the airport and to see the dairy.
We learned nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
At the time, I didn't know that, and I enjoyed it because I was a child and I played and it was great fun.
And then my father was transferred to the Azore Islands in the Atlantic Ocean.
He went first, and then We went, ladies and gentlemen, and when we went, it was a great, and I mean a great adventure, because we got on the train, the Santa Fe Chief, as a matter of fact, and went from Los Angeles to Chicago on this train.
What a wonderful experience that was.
Everyone dressed for dinner in the dining car.
As they should.
They don't today.
You'll obviously see barefoot people with their underwear hanging out of shorts, bras hanging out of tops, ragged, dirty, sitting at a table next to people wearing suits.
They think nothing of it, but I look back to the time when things were as I believe they should be, and it was so much more wonderful for everyone to go to their stateroom on the train, or to their berth, or to the men's or women's room and dress for dinner, and go to the dining car to eat.
People were polite and said, yes sir, and no sir.
And men stood up for women.
No one was afraid.
No one was threatened.
You could leave your bag or your purse in your seat and most of the time no one would ever touch it or even think of touching it because everyone was watching.
And unlike today when if somebody went to your seat and stole your wallet Everyone who saw it would pretend that they did not.
In those days, if they saw someone stealing your wallet, everyone who saw it would have gotten up and would have apprehended or literally beat that person into the ground.
You see, there's a big difference between then and now.
We reached Chicago and caught another train.
And went somewhere on the East Coast and eventually ended up at Westover Air Force Base, where my father met us and we boarded a military aircraft, which bears no resemblance to passenger planes of today, ladies and gentlemen.
There's a great empty metal tunnel With what were called bucket seats on the sides and net bunks above those bucket seats.
Bucket seats were just merely a framework that folded out with a canvas bottom and you sat on that canvas bottom much like a fold out stool that you take camping.
Only it covered the whole length of one side of the airplane and the other side also.
And we leaned back against a sort of nylon webbing, and above that were these web bunks, where if someone got sleepy, they would crawl into the bunk and go to sleep.
And we flew for many, many, many, many hours across the Atlantic Ocean, until we landed at Lodge's Air Force Base on the island of Tessera Azores.
And I attended the third, fourth, and fifth grade at Lodges Air Force Base.
The Portuguese people, by our standards, were very poor.
However, they were very happy.
They were agrarian, farmers, raised crops.
Some of them were merchants.
Since there was no housing available on the base, My father and his family was placed upon a housing waiting list, and he found a home for us in a village which was quite a ways away from the base called Fonta de Bastard, which literally translated means the Fountain of the Bastards.
My brother and sister, who were two years younger than I and myself, knew no Portuguese, and the home that my father had acquired for us was literally a mansion.
A mansion.
It was several stories high.
Three, I believe.
Three stories high.
It was huge, surrounded by a wrought iron fence.
Covered with terraces and in the back there were places for gardens and chicken coops and all kinds of things.
There was a small orchard.
And three of the sides of this property were bricked up with rock walls covered with plaster and whitewash.
The house was so high above the village we could literally look down upon the roofs of the rest of the people who lived there.
My father was a generous man.
He was only a lieutenant.
He didn't make a lot of money.
But it didn't take a lot of money in the Azores at that time to live in that manner.
We didn't have a lot of furniture.
I remember that.
My father provided electricity for the Catholic Church that was at the bottom of the hill.
He provided bleachers in the front of our yard facing the street behind the beautiful wrought iron fence for the people of the village when they had their annual bullfight in the street.
He did an awful lot of things for those people he did not have to do.
I've never forgotten that.
His generosity was exemplary for a young man.
The islands were beautiful.
The beaches were beautiful.
The people were wonderful.
I learned an awful lot during our stay there.
When we left the Azores, we went back to the United States, to Biloxi, Mississippi, where we lived on Hollywood Boulevard.
And right behind our homes started a wilderness that went down to what was known as the Back Bay, covered with alligators and Cottonmouth water moccasins and raccoons and every kind of wild thing you could think of.
My brother and sister and I were kept very busy when we were not at school, capturing snakes and turtles and running down raccoons and watching them and doing all of the things that we certainly were not supposed to do.
When I look back and see how close we would venture to some of the most poisonous snakes in this country, a chill runs up my spine, but back then it did not.
For I was young and healthy, and I had the world in front of me, and nothing could harm me.
We had a television then.
My father would watch the news.
My mother and father would watch some of the comedy shows, such as Milton Berle and some of the others.
We were very seldom allowed to watch television at all, under any circumstances whatsoever.
I was a member of the Boy Scouts.
No one on Hollywood Boulevard locked their doors.
No one that I know of or can remember was ever assaulted.
Nothing was ever stolen from anybody.
I never knew a girl who got pregnant.
And I'm telling you the truth, ladies and gentlemen.
That's the way it was.
The closest we ever came to any violence was one day coming back from school on the school bus.
A bully was picking on my brother.
We all got off the school bus at the same stop and he was still picking on my brother and all of a sudden I became infuriated and I jumped on him and started hitting him with all my might and he beat me to a pulp.
My brother jumped on his back and he beat my brother to a pulp also.
So my brother and I went home all beat up.
But you know what happened, ladies and gentlemen?
He never bothered us again ever.
Because he knew we were not afraid to hit him, and he didn't want to be hit.
And so I learned a lesson about bullies.
And from that time on, I never countenanced a bully.
After our time in Biloxi, Mississippi, we went to Oklahoma City, to Midwest City, as a matter Where I attended Monroney, let me say that again, Monroney Junior High School, which was named after the United States Senator for the State of Oklahoma, Senator Monroney.
I was the first class that attended that school.
And I was the first class that graduated from that school.
It was a junior high school.
7th and 8th grade.
That was it.
And we were, oh, learning how to be teenagers.
Which in those days was very, very easy.
I remember one time my mother was going to enter something in a flower arranging contest.
She wanted to enter as many categories as she could, so she made a flower arrangement and put my name on it.
She made another one, put my brother's name on it, my sister's name on it, my father's name.
She entered all of these things, and I won.
And my prize was a record.
It was the first record I ever owned in my life, ladies and gentlemen.
It was Only You was the name of it.
After that, the next record that I got was The Great Pretender.
And I loved that record because I went to a slumber party of one of my friends, and it was just a whole bunch of us young boys who stayed up all night pitching pennies and telling lies and arm wrestling and everything that you can think of to stay awake.
And that's really all it was about, just to see who could stay awake till morning.
And all night long I can remember hearing The Great Pretender playing on the record player.
Over and over and over again.
And so I got that record.
And several others.
And I played the trumpet then.
My mother had purchased a trumpet for me while we lived in Biloxi, Mississippi because I told her that I wanted to be a trumpet player.
A great trumpet player.
And so I was in the band.
I remember the band leader was Mr. Hood.
Now eventually I got to be pretty good on the trumpet, but then I was not.
I was always second or third trumpet, and this guy named Steve Jacobs was always first trumpet.
He was always the best.
But any one day in band I was playing the trumpet and trying to follow along with the music and getting lost as I usually did and striking sour notes and just completely making a total nuisance of myself when I looked across to the clarinet section and there was the most beautiful little blonde headed girl looking at me with a smile on her face from ear to ear Because she knew I was totally screwing up, and she was playing the clarinet, and she wasn't looking at her music, she was looking at me, and so she was screwing up, too.
And she winked at me.
And I felt the most incredible feeling go through my body when she winked at me.
And I fell in love on the spot, and I winked back, and that was the end of me.
And from that day on, I carried her books to school, and I carried her books home.
And I thought about her every moment of my waking day and plotted ways to be next to her and to talk to her, hoping above hope that I could sneak a kiss.
And at night I would dream about her.
You see, the music that we had, ladies and gentlemen, is a reflection upon what was happening then.
And if you listen to the music of that time, you'll see that there was no animosity whatsoever.
There were no threats.
There was no intimidation.
It wasn't about blood.
It wasn't about terrible things.
It wasn't about People getting blown away or losing your mama or any of that kind of stuff.
It was about hope and promise and love and heartbreak and getting married.
It was truly an age of innocence.
Put your head on my shoulder.
Hold me in your arms, baby.
Squeeze me over tight.
Show me that you love me too.
Put your lips next to mine Dear
Don't you kiss me once Maybe two
Just a kiss goodbye Maybe two
You and I were torn in half You and I were torn apart
You go say goodbye I remember that I took this girl to a dance when
You see, she took dance lessons.
I'd never taken a dance lesson in my life.
She took dancing lessons, and they were having a dance for their class graduation.
And she invited me, so I took her to her graduation dance for her dance class.
She tried with all her might to make me dance the way she had been taught, and I refused.
I listened to the music, and I led her, and I danced the way I felt it should be done.
Because I've always been very closely attuned to music.
All my life, I've been in love with music.
And so, even though I'd never had a dance class in my life, and had never danced really, I took this young girl in my arms, and as she tried to lead me in the manner in which she had been taught, I swept her away with the music, and we won.
We won the dancing contest that night.
And our prize was two of these big giant suckers on a stick.
And we were so proud.
So very proud.
And the next year, in the eighth grade, We had sock hops in the gym, and I took her to those.
And we danced and we were so happy.
I never knew at that time either any girl who ever became pregnant.
I never had sexual intercourse, didn't know anyone who did.
Yes, we kissed and we hugged and we went on hayrides and sometimes we got pretty close to some pretty heavy petting.
But that's as far as it ever went.
And yes, it was terribly frustrating at times, but we learned how to deal with it.
And then my father was transferred to Japan.
I entered high school as a freshman at Naramasu High School at Grant Heights Housing Area
near Naramasu City, about nineteen miles outside the city of Tokyo.
Thank you.
What a wonderful, beautiful time.
We played baseball and we played football and we danced and we went to Tokyo on the trains by ourselves.
It was a great adventure.
There wasn't much that we couldn't do or didn't do because to the Japanese, who were so much shorter than us, we were men.
So when I was fourteen years old, the Japanese looked at me as a grown man because I was six foot one inch tall and most Japanese barely cleared five feet.
And so we got in some mischief and we drank some beer and we drank some wine and we ate and partied and did things that adults do, but all in innocence, never to We never robbed from anyone, we never hurt anyone, we never shot anyone, we never beat anyone up.
Occasionally we would get in a small, short-lived fistfight amongst ourselves defending our
manly honor against some imagined slight.
I graduated from high school in Japan, from Yamato High School at Yamato Air Force Base
when my father was transferred again from Fuchu Air Station, which is the reason we
lived at Grant Heights and went to school at Naramaso, to Tachikawa, which was quite
a ways away, which facilitated a move to Yamato High School.
Thank you.
All through high school, ladies and gentlemen, I can remember I never really had to do any homework or study for any test.
Our teachers were so good, they taught us well, and we all made pretty good grades.
Learning has always come easy for me, and not so easy for some others.
So, thank you.
I understand that, and I don't really know why.
I tend to blame it on my grandmother, who read to me incessantly, over and over and over again, from the best books, when I was but a very small child.
See, when I was three years old, she was reading to me Robinson Crusoe.
And I have tried To carry that practice on.
I don't read to my daughters as much as my grandmother read to me.
For she, when she came to live with us, no longer had to work.
And I do, but I do read to my children.
And I can see the results of that because who could read when she was three?
She sort of forgot it when she was four and then picked it up again when she was five.
And she reads better than most.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to tell you this is the truth.
She reads better right now than most fifth or sixth graders read.
And she's only six.
Again, in Japan, no one ever locked their doors.
No one was afraid of anything.
We stayed out as late as we wanted to.
Went to the movies, went to Tokyo, did all kinds of things, wonderful things.
Then we came back after I graduated to Oklahoma, and it had not changed much.
Went and found the girl who'd winked at me from behind her clarinet on that fateful day, and we dated.
We'd written each other while I was in Japan.
And then I joined the Air Force.
And in the Air Force, ladies and gentlemen, I didn't know anybody who acts like they do today.
We were young men with a purpose.
We wanted to serve our country.
We wanted to do good.
We all had good moral standards, good ethics.
No one set out to hurt anyone else.
The races were mixed in the barracks and on the bases.
There were no race wars.
There was no animosity.
I can remember when I was undergoing technical training at Amarillo Air Force Base, a bunch of us who were great friends went into town.
One of my great friends was a black man.
We went in a little restaurant and sat down, the four of us.
The waitress came over and said she was sorry she couldn't serve us.
I didn't know why.
Neither did the other two guys who were from the Northeast.
They didn't know why.
The black man knew why.
But in my ignorance and stupidity, I said, why?
What's the problem?
Where's the manager?
Why can't you have something against military personnel?
And she was embarrassed and turned beet red and didn't want to tell us why, because she didn't want to embarrass any of us.
She just worked there.
And so that was my first brush in my entire life with racism.
I hated it then, I hate it now, and I've been fighting it ever since.
We ended up all walking out, rather than some of us stay and one of us having to leave.
And since that was where my great-aunt sister lived, I took them all over to her house for And then we went back to the base and we didn't go to Amarillo
much anymore after that.
We all wanted things to be better.
We all wanted to fall in love and have children and have a good job and just enjoy life because that's what everybody was doing then.
We wanted racism to go away.
We wanted wars to go away.
And all of this portrayal of students diving under desks and being deathly afraid of atomic bombs was a bunch of bullshit, ladies and gentlemen.
I can't remember ever having done that in school.
Although we may have.
It doesn't stick in my memory.
I can tell you this.
No one was afraid of the atomic bomb being dropped on their head at any time.
We weren't living in fear.
Our parents weren't living in fear.
No one was living in fear.
It was a time of prosperity and happiness and the complete absence of fear that I remember.
It was a time of innocence and of falling in love and having fun And being surrounded with friends and not having to worry or be afraid.
Not having been threatened by violence of any kind.
And we can bring that back, ladies and gentlemen.
We can bring it back.
I know that we can bring it back.
Because all that's required is that we stop bombarding ourselves with all of these things that are not good for any of us.
You see?
It is absolutely imperative that we get away from the destruction of the spirit.
I can tell you exactly what's wrong with this country, ladies and gentlemen.
It's Hollywood.
It's television.
It's pornography.
Do you realize that the entire time I was growing up, even after I went in the United States Air Force, I never saw any pornography in my entire life?
Although I know it existed.
I know it was there.
I don't know who had it.
Because I never did.
I never saw it offered for sale.
I never saw it.
Period.
The only thing I ever saw was Playboy magazine.
And I couldn't buy it.
And I never bought a copy until after two years I was in the Air Force.
And then I bought a copy because I was a young man.
And by God, I loved women.
Oh yes, I did.
And I still do.
If you don't believe that, ask Annie.
She'll certainly tell you the answer to that.
So I want you to understand, all of you, that there is something that offers us hope.
You see, if we had it once, we can have it again, all of us.
But it can be better for some of us than it ever was for any or all of us.
And in having it better for some of us, it can indeed be better for every single one of us, for all of us, for the nation.
And ultimately, if we wish it for the world, we can have it back.
All we have to do is say no.
All we have to do is stop purchasing the products that support the destruction of innocence.
All we have to do is not vote, period.
What would happen if in the next election nobody voted?
Have you ever thought about that?
Well, think about it.
In the meantime, don't stop getting yourself spiritually and materially ready for a great, terrible, and bloody conflict.
Because our enemies, I believe, will force us to that conflict.
But I also know another secret, ladies and gentlemen.
There's no army up on the face of this world that can prevail against even 5% of the American
people if they are armed and dedicated to a single purpose and are not afraid to die
for their beliefs.
Good night and God bless each and every single one of you.
I'm a prisoner of the great barrier, of the great barrier.
And when God has brought me to you, I'm almost at scale.