First, let me start off by giving a shout out to my brother Gary, who's celebrated his birthday last week. Now you don't know this, but Gary's a redneck. I mean a true, thoroughbred redneck! Yap, sure is! Now by statistics I shouldn't even acknowledge any person who isn't African-American in this column due to the fact that it's Black History Month, right? Well, if that were the case then YOUR Host of Hosts and YOUR Guiding Light would actually be just another casualty of racial idiocrisy (see Matt Striker for more on that word). Allow me to shine some light into your dark feeble and twisted minds.

See, I refuse to accept 28 days out of the year to pay respect to all notable African- Americans before me, especially since African-Americans didn't create it. It was more of a peace offering, a way to say, "Here, this is yourn!" Me, I honor my forefathers 365 days a year, always being thankful for what Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. stood for and what Mrs. Rosa Parks wouldn't stand for! I honor the musical genius of Sammy Davis Jr. and the "Godfather of Soul" James Brown who took music to another level, period.

I celebrate the perseverance and never say never attitude of the first African-American to become a World Heavyweight Champion, Ron Simmons. Simmons broke down a major color barrier in the sport of wrestling proving that a black man can carry the weight of a wrestling promotion on his shoulders. I honor my Father, James Burke (Pop) who dropped out of school in the 6th-grade to help his mother raise his siblings and still went on to become a very successful business man.

But enough of that, my point is, I know my history and honor it every day of my life. So today, I'll do something a little different. Today I'm going to honor some peeps that have touched my life who aren't African-American. (That'll show them folks who have yet tried to enslave my mentality by telling me to honor my heritage 28 days of the shortest month of the year!)

Today I pay tribute to my kindergarten lunch lady who always gave me chocolate milk to drink at lunch. This led me to believe that I was supposed to drink chocolate milk because I was African-American (not to mention all other African-Americans were drinking chocolate milk as well). I guess it was because we were all on what was called "Free Lunch," but never the less I starting beating up any other kids that were drinking chocolate milk because I felt they should be drinking "white milk" and not "our" milk. This really prepared me for the future when it came to using my fist; I mean, look at me now. Ask the Sandman; he'd tell ya how my fists feel. Drunk or not, you WILL feel the wrath of Elijah's Fist of Fury!

I'd also like to thank my 7th-grade teacher who would always tell me to sit my "black @ss down!" It was nothing at first, but the more she said it, it caused me to realize that I must really have an eye grabbing "black @ss." I guess it was true because now that I'm older, whenever I walk past women they stand up and salute my "black @ss." I saw her the other day at an ECW event, (What!? Noooo!!!!) Funny how she stood in line to come see my "black @ss" and not one time did she tell me to sit my "black @ss down." Thanks a lot my 7th-grade teacher, you'll never know how much of an impact you had on my "black @ss!" How's that for Black History Month?

What I'd really like to do is go outside the state and implement a new version of Black History Month, one where black men such as myself could really give back to a country like Canada because their African-American population is almost extinct if you ask me. In order for that to happen, the women would really have to step it up a notch; they look like your local dump truck drivers, just gawd awfully horrible. Recently ECW did a couple of shows in Vancouver and Victoria B.C., in which ferries, (not little people with wings you moron's but big boats that transport cars) had to be used between the two shows. On the way to Victoria I saw not one African-American. On the ferry ride back to Vancouver, fellow New Breeder Marcus Cor Von and I decided to watch Godzilla: Destroy All Monsters.

I think its time for a DNA sample because some of those monsters bare a striking resemblance to Balls Mahoney. Upon completing the movie I decided to go check around on the ferry and see if there were some people in need of my Guiding Light. Much to my surprise, Burke had already ready arrived. That's right, not one…not two…. but three! Yes, the only African-Americans that I saw while in Canada were standing in front of me proclaiming that they were named Burke, and they all happened to be brothers. Of course, I had to see some I.D, which they happily provided for me. Upon further investigation it was found that they were indeed of the Burke brand. Now that doesn't mean that they were related to me because none of them had the good looks and smile that YOUR Paragon of Virtue has. Then again, none of my brothers do; they are good looking, just not on my level.  However, that did leave me to wonder, did my Pops beat me to the punch with this one? I mean, Papa was a rolling stone! (I better get mom on the phone.)

Editor's note: Questions, comments or in need of light? Contact your Paragon of Virtue at ECWHOH@yahoo.com. Your e-mails may be responded to publicly next week in this column.