So, it's gonna be the Peyton Colts vs. the WhoDat Nation in the Super Bowl…probably as it should be.

It was good to see the Colts' Pierre Garcon raise the flag of Haiti at the AFC Championship trophy presentation, so we don't forget amid the tailgate celebrations. (Give: www.hopeforhaiti.com)

And it's a good thing the Super Bowl is in Miami…'cause we're not sure any other city could handle the WhoDat Nation!! Ha!

(A few folks will remember when the Alcorn State University Braves started chanting, back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, "Who dat talkin' 'bout beatin' the Braves? Who dat? Who dat?")

Wonder if George W. Bush thinks any more highly of New Orleans now? Oh well, not to worry. He's off to save Haiti now, along with Bill Clinton.

I'm not sure the face of George W. Bush is the one I want to see following a natural disaster (or a man-made disaster, for that matter, like…you know…2000 to 2008).

What's that you say? It's Obama who is destroying this nation? One keeps hearing that around the right-wing spheres of influence (like my town).

That's laughable, really. But let me get this straight. President Obama is, in one year, destroying the nation it took George Bush eight years to bring to the absolute brink of destruction? Okay, that's some talent.

Hardy-Har-Har-Har! These guys are as much fun as a barrel of monkeys!

Meanwhile, over on the Faux New Channel – the official organ of the GOP, a party at this point full of organs, we have Gin BecksBeer cheering on a violent pogrom against what he calls, "progressives." And by that he means those he links to the worst tyrants of the 20th Century.

Why in the world does anyone take this clown seriously?

BecksBeer has it all figured out:

"Progressives want you dead," he posted on his website, (you know: Marxist, Fascists, Episcopalians and Methodists) and went on to explain how "progressives started a hundred year time bomb, they planted it in the early 1900s."

He's referring, he says, to the presidential administrations of Teddy Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson.

"I'm going to find these big progressives," he explains. "And to the day I die I'm going to be a progressive hunter."

"When do we ever run those who are bankrupting our country and literally stealing our children's future out of town? Grab a torch."

It's really not clear in this insane diatribe which is more frightening: the threats of violence or the mangled grammar.

(BANGS GAVEL ON DESK)

"The Exxon-Mobil U.S. Senate will come to order. The ConocoPhillips chaplain will lead the ING Group Senate in prayer."

"Most merciful Goldman-Sachs, fountain of wisdom and goodness, guide our lawmakers with you insights and contributions. When confused thoughts emerge straighten them with your payoffs and bring us into conformity with your will."

"Thank you. May General Electric always bless you. "

"Please join me in reciting the Pledge of Allegiance."

(IN UNISON)

"I pledge allegiance to the bottom line of Royal Dutch Shell and to the corporations for which it stands; one market under General Motors with liberty and justice for all multi-nationals."

"The HSBC Holdings Clerk will now read a communication to the Valero Energy Senate."

"Chevron's Washington, District of AIG. January 22, 2010. To the Exxon-Mobil Senate. Under the provisions of Rule One, Paragraph Three of the Exxon-Mobil Senate, I hereby appoint the Honorable Senator Blanche Lincoln, a senator from AT&T to perform the duties of the chair. Signed Robert C. Byrd, president pro-tempore and appointee of J.P. Morgan Chase."

"The Verizon Majority Leader."

"Madam UnitedHealth Group President, following the remarks of the Verizon Majority Leader leader, the IBM Senate will resume debate on a measure to confirm the naming rights and license of the U.S. News Corp. Supreme Court building, thereby signifying our benefactors' control over every last remaining portion of our once great government and extending those rights to the individuals of this great land whose pockets will be gratefully emptied.

"Madam Home Depot President, I yield my time to the Honorable Lindsey Graham, Senator from Proctor & Gamble."

"Madam Sony President, before I begin I must compliment the chair on the lovely new Wal-Mart decal emblazed on your suit. It is striking and upholds the highest ideals of our corporations."

"Thank you, Senator. And might I say the Morgan Stanley tattoo on your forehead is quite becoming."

"Thank you, Madam Bank of America President, this bill upon adoption will grant inexorable freedoms to our people, the freedom to be owned exclusively by our benefactors. By formally naming the building which houses our highest corporate court of the land, exalting our justices and increasing at last the long-sought-after transparency of our corporate government."

"Madam Credit Suisse President, this legislation will be followed, of course, by the measure to brand with hot irons our population for the purposes of indelibly indentifying them as the wards and province of our benefactors.."

"Madam LG President, I yield the balance of my time."

Conversation at Republican National Headquarters the morning after the death of U.S. Senator Ted Kennedy:

“Wouldn't it be great if we could steal Ted Kennedy's seat in a special election?”

“What? Are you kidding me? We don't stand a snowball's chance of getting that seat. Don't you think the Democrats will do everything possible to make sure they replace Teddy with another socialist, liberal, whinny, do-gooder who cares only for the betterment of people?”

“Yea, I guess you're right. I mean, after all, we haven't had a Republican senator from Massachusetts since Edward Brooke and he was black…I think…and slept with Barbara Walters.”

“Why, heck, the only other Republican senator from Massachusetts in a hundred years was Henry Cabot Lodge and he was such a loser Nixon picked him for vice-president against JFK!”

“Nope. Not a chance. The Democrats would probably even run a naked pin-up to keep that seat if that was all they had.”

“Hey, wait a minute…what did you just say?”

“I said they'd probably go to any extreme, including running a naked pin-up. You know some kind of sex symbol if it meant holding on to Teddy's seat. Lord knows, Teddy would approve…Har-har-har!”

“Hang on a minute. You might be on to something. I mean, what have we go to lose, right?

“We got this state senator up there. He posed naked in Cosmo, has two hot daughters he pimps all over the place; one on American Idol and the other a basketball player…so you know what THAT means!”

“Are you kidding me? We're the family-values party. We can't run a naked politician for Ted Kennedy's seat. We'd be laughed out of politics.”

“Look, you and I both know the Dems are so generally incompetent at elections they'll probably run some lazy state office holder who will be so arrogant they'll think they can just waltz into the seat without much effort. This is our chance.”

“You know? That's just crazy enough it might work.”

“Sure, we'll get this naked guy, put him in a truck to make him look more macho after posing naked. No one will complain. It's not like he's a girl posing naked.”

“We'll get the teabaggers all riled up. Heaven knows they're addled enough now we can get them to go for anything as long as we dangle Obama in front of 'em.”

“The boys on Wall Street and K Street will belly up all the bucks we ask them for.”

“The boys over at Fox will go full throttle.”

“We can maybe – just like this state senator guy – pull this off!”

“Okay, sure…we can dream.”

The family was gathering. Food was on the table. Well-wishers and mourners stopped by the house all day.

Most of them rang the front doorbell. But a knock at the back door raised curious eyebrows of the family members gathered for a moment in the kitchen.

Outside the door stood one of the most familiar faces ever to grace that farming home, a tall, elegant woman who carried her head and shoulders high. She refused to let her demeanor reveal the troubled years of her life.

"I heard about Mr. Ernest," the woman said. "I'm so sorry. He was a good man, good to me and mine."

The woman was ushered into the house enthusiastically, gratefully. She'd come a long way to pay her respects, taking public transportation as far as it would carry her and walking the rest of the way.

How she heard about Mr. Ernest's death was never made clear. There had been a short newspaper piece about it but Mattie couldn't read – she was never given the chance to learn. Rather than schooling in her young years, she was working.

Her handsome and dark brown face radiated the sight of seeing so many old and familiar faces, some of which she'd seen mature from childhood to adulthood. Her face, now framed by graying hair, broke into that bright smile which for so many years enhanced that farmhouse.

"Mr. Earnest," as she always called him had, indeed, been good to Mattie and her family – in his own way and in a way dictated by the social mores of Florida's old, white society.

Mattie and her husband, Jimmy, lived on the farm for many years. Mr. Ernest gave them the old family house when a new one was built. Jimmy worked in the pasture and groves alongside Mr. Ernest. Mattie worked in the house with Miss Mary.

Mr. Ernest had been employer, benefactor, even arbiter when the need arose. He tried to treat his employees with respect and dignity, the way he treated everyone – but with Mattie and Jimmy, the attitude was actually one of benevolent paternalism, the social mores of the day.

It was a different era, a different time, one best left behind but not forgotten for fear of it being repeated.

The times had changed greatly by that balmy spring morning when Mattie stopped by the old farm house to pay her respects. Martin Luther King, Jr., had preached, led, taught, suffered and died trying to make sure the discrimination and paternalism of the past gave way to a new dignity, new self-esteem and a new sense of independence and social advancement.

Although he'd never been to this part of rural Florida to lead a campaign, he'd been to the big cities. His message and his mission touched the lives of everyone gathered in that farmhouse that morning.

But still, Mattie came to the back door. Granted, it was the door used by nearly everyone in the family. Hardly anyone actually used the front door. Mattie had no doubt seen other people arriving at the same time and going to the front door. But this was Mr. Earnest to whom she was coming to pay her respects. She chose the back door.

It has been over 50 years since Martin Luther King began the campaign that would transform this nation. But the transformation is not yet complete.

Had the scene repeated itself today, Mattie might have chosen the front door. But like Mr. Ernest, Mattie was too a prisoner of the social mores of the time.

Mattie died in a Tampa rest home. She was practically penniless. Mr. Ernest's family might have done more to ease her comfort in her last years but they didn't. It was still the social midnight about which Dr. King frequently talked.

The dawn is closer but it hasn't yet arrived. Faith, however, is inching the hours closer to a dawn where everyone is judged "more by the content of their character than by the color of their skin."

We have yet fully open that front door and embrace the loving warmth of the dawn.