Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen

When Leif Ericsson set off from his estates here in Copenhagen between ten centuries and a millennium ago to cross an ocean and bring oppression and slavery to the natives: Black, White, Yellow and Red, of North America, no-one could have foreseen that on this day in history an African-American President would stand here as the freely elected leader of a corrupt, cruel and warlike nation to bring peace and equality at last to the globe that has cried out for them so long to deaf ears. But I have large, wide, receptive African-American ears.

Last night I had a dream. I dreamt I left the Road to Mandalay and laid down the white man’s burden and later divorced her just like dear old Dad did. I left all the peoples of the world to govern themselves according to their own unique histories, laws and diverse customs: just as people of every nation should do. And we shall soon freely follow all of those histories, laws and diverse customs in slavish fashion back in the United States – in all 57 of which I have lived and studied and was born.

It was warm that year, and although you couldn’t prove it wasn’t due to there being too many automobiles in the world (and I’ve made sure that there will be just exactly the right number of American ones by helping the Auto Workers Union to make their production targets), you could prove it by the tree rings. Except that there weren’t enough tree rings the first time we counted them, but it’s been possible to substitute similar data to support the mediaeval existence of carbon-spewing industries across the Atlantic by following the ancient Scandinavian science of taking small slivers of timber and casting them into the air to prove that the hockey stick is real.

(Never trust a woman who says she knows what a hockey stick is for, by the way. She’ll say it’s for her children and her children’s children. As if that kind of uncontrolled breeding ever did the human race in all its diverse and equal races any good at all throughout the rise of mankind and the history of civilisation.)

No-one could have foreseen that on this day in history an African-American President, whose ancestors Leif Ericsson would never have allowed to even touch a hockey stick; let alone fabricate scientific evidence to merit the closing down of all carbon-positive industries such as all of those that manufacture goods for profit as well as most services, would stand here to tell you at this moment in history that I have a dream.

It is a dream of two worlds. One is dirty: disorganized; divided; and afflicted with hidebound institutions such as royalty, divisive politics as its leaders squabble, and many individuals have unhelpful opinions, and some of its people cling on to memories of a republican constitution, an independent senate and some old religion.

The other is a perfect world: bright and regular and clean and full of people united in a common purpose. And one day it approaches that old, tired and disorganized world and it brings its message of hope from the stars: a new hope.

And on my orders millions of voices suddenly cry out (for change, I have no doubt) and are suddenly silent.

And so I ask you; the rulers (and in one or two cases the freely elected representatives democratically chosen from identifiably different and competing political parties), to join me and come over to my side. Join me and together we shall rule the world as One. With me as the biggest Number One of all.