Dear Diary,
This afternoon, while playing on the beach with some of my siblings, I saw three ships, with banners waving, coming my way. Flags of their homeland told of whence they came, and my curiosity got the best of me so I went out to meet them. A bunch of white guys rowed smaller boats to shore and I greeted them with nervous anticipation. They seemed friendly enough at first; that is, until they started raping and pillaging. But I’m not one to hold a grudge. Live and let live, right?
Dear Diary,
Some time has passed since my first encounter with the white guys. I’m trying to be non-judgmental so I decided to forgive and forget. Some friends and I showed the crackers how to plant native crops, catch fish, and hunt for wild game. To their own surprise a handful of them survived the first year. They wanted to celebrate by having a big feast and said we could come if we brought the food. We said “why not?” and brought a butt load of tasty vittles. They called it “Thanksgiving”, and we called it “Your-welcome-giving.”
Dear Diary,
As it turns out our white acquaintances have a lot of relatives AND they invited them all over. They asked if we wouldn’t mind pulling up stakes and giving them a little more space. To help us feel better about the move they gave us a delicious drink that helps you forget you’ve just been ripped off and a bunch of blankets made of this lovely European wool. They called them “Small Pock Comforters” and they were cozy. We didn’t want to seem unaccommodating sooooo, ok.
Dear Diary,
Our white neighbors got in a big fight. I heard that Johnny Reb is mad at Billy Yank because apparently Johnny wants to keep his Negroes and his autonomy but Billy is a control freak and said “no way.” Ironically, while Billy's army is fighting for our black cousins some of his army is out here giving us trouble, but for the most part their guns are pointed at each other, so it gives us a little reprieve. Maybe they’ll all kill each other and we can split the land with the Negroes.
Dear Diary
We found out that there’s gold on our land today. Talk about your bad luck. No time to write, as I have to get packing before my wife and children are murdered.
Dear Diary,
Well, we’ve settled on some God-forsaken worthless toiletbowl-of-the-Earth. No tatonka, no trees, no water, nothin’. Not even the Mexicans would want it.
Dear Diary,
Well I was wrong. They wanted our craphole too. Not to worry though. Our white friends have assured us that they have reserved, on our behalf, some land that they can find absolutely no use for. Just to be sure we asked them to have one more look around just to make sure they couldn’t squeeze an Indian head penny out of the area. They tried and they couldn’t, so it’s ours. To celebrate, me and some of the guys passed around the pipe. No tobacco of coarse, but plenty of broken treaties for everybody to smoke.
Dear Diary
While standing, on break, near the entrance of my casino I saw three cars, with campers trailing, driving my way. License plates of their homeland told from whence they came…
Showing posts with label Politically Correct. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Politically Correct. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Let US Pray
Good news Muslim high-schoolers. You can now pray it up in school. Despite attempts on the part of a few vehement atheists to stifle your religiosity many states are holding up your right to get all churchy during school hours. Personally, I really can’t say I blame you for putting up a holy stink. If a few prayers meant I could get out of class 5 or 10 extra minutes every day, then give me a rug and call me Ishmael, because I’m in.
Mind you, I haven’t always been in favor of special consideration for minority groups. Let me illustrate with an example from my past. I am a member of a church that enjoys a relatively high Polynesian membership, for the lower 48 at least. And without fail, anytime one of them gets up to the pulpit they yell “Aloha!” Not only that, but everyone in the audience is expected to yell “aloha” back in response. (I guess it’s the islander’s version of the Southern Baptist’s, “Hallelujah!”) If the congregation doesn’t yell it loud enough, which they never do the first time, the screaming Polynesian repeats his greeting louder than before in an effort to prod the sleepy assembly in a kind of “come-on-crackers-you-can-do-better-than-that” sort of way. And the process repeats until the islander is satisfied, which can take some time. I’ve seen this go on for 20 minutes before. This practice has always seemed strange to me since I’m quite satisfied with just a single greeting from a friend or group of people, despite the decibel level.
When I first witnessed this I was still in my youth and believed that one should never shout in church. Pious indignation spurred me to my feet upon the pew and I attempted to subdue the seemingly hypnotized congregation. With hands raised like Moses to the Israelites I entreated all with a loud voice, “No my people! Do not blaspheme in the house of God! Be still. Peace be unto you. Be not easily swayed by the wicked enticement of one man. Be as a rock, a rock upon which we can build some homes, or maybe some condos for the lower income families! Yea verily - ”
My father jerked me from the pew mid soap box sermon by my tie, told me I’m not Moses, and later informed me that the man was Polynesian and is allowed to scream in church. Not only that but he was also expected to eat an inordinate amount of Spam.
“Can I yell in church?” I asked.
“No.” said my father.
“Why not.” I persisted.
“Because you’re white.” He explained.
“What does my color have to do with it?” I queried.
“You're so young.” he laughed.
Needless to say, I learned a profound lesson that day. Part of that lesson is that there are still some exceptions that cannot be made, especially if we are talking about mainstream America. At the same time high school Muslims were receiving legislative support for their right to pray to their God in their way, everyone else was further reminded that God has no place in our educational system. (Luckily He already knows everything and has no need of a preparatory education.) Several districts, in places like Texas and elsewhere in the United States had, up til recently, been allowed to practice what they called a “moment of silence” exercise where students could pray, reflect, think about the hot chick in class, or just pick their noses without other students witnessing it. Whether they were doing it in classes, at the beginning of sports games, or before the schools human sacrifice ritual I don’t know. The fact of the matter is, is that these “moments of silence” were being practiced in the presence of atheist students, whose parents found out and were immediately gripped by the fear that some of these religious thoughts might rub off on their child and influence them to buy a gun and vote another redneck into the Whitehouse. Justifiably they rallied, and by the authority of the Constitution of the United States of America, (which we all know was written by religion hating atheists), they, along with the ACLU, the harbingers of all that is good and right, put an end to this evil “moment of silence.”
Some of the ACLU’s social scientists have determined that the intellectual casualties were significant and they were lucky that they put an end to the “moment” when they did.
So pray on Muslims, because you too will soon be part of the mainstream and an eligible target of the protectors of Trooth, Rite, and the Amerikan Way.
God bless. (Just not at school.)
Mind you, I haven’t always been in favor of special consideration for minority groups. Let me illustrate with an example from my past. I am a member of a church that enjoys a relatively high Polynesian membership, for the lower 48 at least. And without fail, anytime one of them gets up to the pulpit they yell “Aloha!” Not only that, but everyone in the audience is expected to yell “aloha” back in response. (I guess it’s the islander’s version of the Southern Baptist’s, “Hallelujah!”) If the congregation doesn’t yell it loud enough, which they never do the first time, the screaming Polynesian repeats his greeting louder than before in an effort to prod the sleepy assembly in a kind of “come-on-crackers-you-can-do-better-than-that” sort of way. And the process repeats until the islander is satisfied, which can take some time. I’ve seen this go on for 20 minutes before. This practice has always seemed strange to me since I’m quite satisfied with just a single greeting from a friend or group of people, despite the decibel level.
When I first witnessed this I was still in my youth and believed that one should never shout in church. Pious indignation spurred me to my feet upon the pew and I attempted to subdue the seemingly hypnotized congregation. With hands raised like Moses to the Israelites I entreated all with a loud voice, “No my people! Do not blaspheme in the house of God! Be still. Peace be unto you. Be not easily swayed by the wicked enticement of one man. Be as a rock, a rock upon which we can build some homes, or maybe some condos for the lower income families! Yea verily - ”
My father jerked me from the pew mid soap box sermon by my tie, told me I’m not Moses, and later informed me that the man was Polynesian and is allowed to scream in church. Not only that but he was also expected to eat an inordinate amount of Spam.
“Can I yell in church?” I asked.
“No.” said my father.
“Why not.” I persisted.
“Because you’re white.” He explained.
“What does my color have to do with it?” I queried.
“You're so young.” he laughed.
Needless to say, I learned a profound lesson that day. Part of that lesson is that there are still some exceptions that cannot be made, especially if we are talking about mainstream America. At the same time high school Muslims were receiving legislative support for their right to pray to their God in their way, everyone else was further reminded that God has no place in our educational system. (Luckily He already knows everything and has no need of a preparatory education.) Several districts, in places like Texas and elsewhere in the United States had, up til recently, been allowed to practice what they called a “moment of silence” exercise where students could pray, reflect, think about the hot chick in class, or just pick their noses without other students witnessing it. Whether they were doing it in classes, at the beginning of sports games, or before the schools human sacrifice ritual I don’t know. The fact of the matter is, is that these “moments of silence” were being practiced in the presence of atheist students, whose parents found out and were immediately gripped by the fear that some of these religious thoughts might rub off on their child and influence them to buy a gun and vote another redneck into the Whitehouse. Justifiably they rallied, and by the authority of the Constitution of the United States of America, (which we all know was written by religion hating atheists), they, along with the ACLU, the harbingers of all that is good and right, put an end to this evil “moment of silence.”
Some of the ACLU’s social scientists have determined that the intellectual casualties were significant and they were lucky that they put an end to the “moment” when they did.
So pray on Muslims, because you too will soon be part of the mainstream and an eligible target of the protectors of Trooth, Rite, and the Amerikan Way.
God bless. (Just not at school.)
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Paris Is Not Free! All Hope Is Lost! (at least for 37 more days)
This post is a follow up to my last post, “Paris Is Free!!!”, and will make better sense if you read that one first.
In my ongoing revelry and celebration I failed to notice the updates of Paris Hilton’s legal situation. Her unjustified abuse continues as she has been re-sentenced to serve the rest of her 45 day prison sentence. Just when my tender heart had regained a speck of hope, that hope was dashed to pieces by the malicious gavel of a vindictive judge. Shame on you your honor. And shame on us all for allowing it.
Despite the heavy amounts of injustice continually pressed upon her, Paris continues to inspire all with her courage, fortitude, and selflessness. Of her plight she has said, “I would hope going forward that the public and the media will focus on more important things, like my movies, TV shows, and other hot stuff I do.” Gratefully we have been assured that “A guard is monitoring her at all times to ensure there isn't anything harmful done to herself by herself." The statement is reassuring but the effort unnecessary as Paris would never bring harm to herself since she has been taught since birth of her important role in society and has learned to put her safety, wellbeing, and happiness above all others.
My heart is low this day and I have not the strength to write further.
In my ongoing revelry and celebration I failed to notice the updates of Paris Hilton’s legal situation. Her unjustified abuse continues as she has been re-sentenced to serve the rest of her 45 day prison sentence. Just when my tender heart had regained a speck of hope, that hope was dashed to pieces by the malicious gavel of a vindictive judge. Shame on you your honor. And shame on us all for allowing it.
Despite the heavy amounts of injustice continually pressed upon her, Paris continues to inspire all with her courage, fortitude, and selflessness. Of her plight she has said, “I would hope going forward that the public and the media will focus on more important things, like my movies, TV shows, and other hot stuff I do.” Gratefully we have been assured that “A guard is monitoring her at all times to ensure there isn't anything harmful done to herself by herself." The statement is reassuring but the effort unnecessary as Paris would never bring harm to herself since she has been taught since birth of her important role in society and has learned to put her safety, wellbeing, and happiness above all others.
My heart is low this day and I have not the strength to write further.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
PARIS IS FREE!!!
Never has this headline meant so much. Not even when it was used to herald the liberation of Paris, France in August of 1944, or all the other times France was saved by some foreign nation.
I know this column is a little late, but you’ll have to excuse me. One of the reasons I have not posted anything as of late is because I have been so tied up in the goings on and recent release of Paris Hilton.
It is hard for me to express in words how important this event is but let me say that just when I thought the moral sun was permanently setting on the horizon of our collective ethos, the American judicial system has given us a shining sliver of hope. For a time I was convinced our great country was on the brink of godless anarchy. When a pillar of our extended community and archetype of goodness like Paris Hilton is convicted of something as trivial as driving under the influence or driving with a suspended license or shooting a homeless person I can’t help but feel that we are a society very nearly beyond Thunder Dome.
When, might I ask, did government get so big, bureaucracy laden, and audaciously pompous as to think they could torment one of our Founding Sisters, especially for something as trivial as driving with a suspended license? (If you are unfamiliar with the Founding Sisters let me mention a few prominent members; Lindsey Lohan, Nicole Ritchie, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen, and Britney Spears, just to name a few.) Also, who, I’d like to know, doesn’t drive under the influence or on a suspended license? I’ve personally killed 27 homeless persons while driving under the influence on a suspended license. I don’t remember the last time I did drive sober or with a license. Sober driving, hmmph. Boooooooriiiing. I digress.
Though I was shocked at the close-mindedness of Paris Hilton’s judge, I was most saddened to hear in the news that she was being used by the system to make an example. What some people in our judicial system don’t understand is that there are those in society who have achieved a level of entitlement that is not afforded to others, or “normies” as I like to call them. You see, Paris Hilton is no mere citizen of America, bound by the same laws, restrictions, tax codes, and social proprieties that you and I are bound by. She is America damnit! She’s the Trend Setter; the sleeveless, rib exposing, pattern dress wearing guru of what is HOT and what is NOT! Aside from her enormous contributions made in politics, the sciences, and humanitarian aid, she has done more for modern TV and movie entertainment than any other actor, ever. A snippet of her biography should illustrate my point: The Simple Life, Bottoms Up, House of Wax, The Hillz, Wonderland, Nine Lives. (And those were just some of the movies she knew she was acting in.) She’s not in the media. She is the media! And they treated her like some common, poor, non-white girl who wasn't an heiress to a hotel chain fortune.
Let me conclude by saying that just because she was released early does not excuse the fact that she was ever troubled, let alone convicted, in the first place. Together we can stop the moral slippage of our time by remembering Paris and the hardships she has endured and making sure that it never happens again.
Welcome back Ms. Hilton. Please except our most sincere apologies.
I know this column is a little late, but you’ll have to excuse me. One of the reasons I have not posted anything as of late is because I have been so tied up in the goings on and recent release of Paris Hilton.
It is hard for me to express in words how important this event is but let me say that just when I thought the moral sun was permanently setting on the horizon of our collective ethos, the American judicial system has given us a shining sliver of hope. For a time I was convinced our great country was on the brink of godless anarchy. When a pillar of our extended community and archetype of goodness like Paris Hilton is convicted of something as trivial as driving under the influence or driving with a suspended license or shooting a homeless person I can’t help but feel that we are a society very nearly beyond Thunder Dome.
When, might I ask, did government get so big, bureaucracy laden, and audaciously pompous as to think they could torment one of our Founding Sisters, especially for something as trivial as driving with a suspended license? (If you are unfamiliar with the Founding Sisters let me mention a few prominent members; Lindsey Lohan, Nicole Ritchie, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen, and Britney Spears, just to name a few.) Also, who, I’d like to know, doesn’t drive under the influence or on a suspended license? I’ve personally killed 27 homeless persons while driving under the influence on a suspended license. I don’t remember the last time I did drive sober or with a license. Sober driving, hmmph. Boooooooriiiing. I digress.
Though I was shocked at the close-mindedness of Paris Hilton’s judge, I was most saddened to hear in the news that she was being used by the system to make an example. What some people in our judicial system don’t understand is that there are those in society who have achieved a level of entitlement that is not afforded to others, or “normies” as I like to call them. You see, Paris Hilton is no mere citizen of America, bound by the same laws, restrictions, tax codes, and social proprieties that you and I are bound by. She is America damnit! She’s the Trend Setter; the sleeveless, rib exposing, pattern dress wearing guru of what is HOT and what is NOT! Aside from her enormous contributions made in politics, the sciences, and humanitarian aid, she has done more for modern TV and movie entertainment than any other actor, ever. A snippet of her biography should illustrate my point: The Simple Life, Bottoms Up, House of Wax, The Hillz, Wonderland, Nine Lives. (And those were just some of the movies she knew she was acting in.) She’s not in the media. She is the media! And they treated her like some common, poor, non-white girl who wasn't an heiress to a hotel chain fortune.
Let me conclude by saying that just because she was released early does not excuse the fact that she was ever troubled, let alone convicted, in the first place. Together we can stop the moral slippage of our time by remembering Paris and the hardships she has endured and making sure that it never happens again.
Welcome back Ms. Hilton. Please except our most sincere apologies.
Friday, May 25, 2007
No P.C. in Munchkin Land
Even though I’ll be middle aged (30) in one month I still find it a real treat to see a midget in public. For me it holds the same kind of novelty as going to the circus as a youngster, or spotting a leprechaun in the wild. (The latter especially since the leprechaun, Midgetous Gaelicious, is a close cousin to our native breed, the Midgetous Americana.) I have to admit, however, that as their numbers multiply and more and more of them are becoming comfortable moving about in regular society that the novelty is wearing off. Pretty soon a midget eyewitness encounter will be as commonplace as seeing pigeons in a park. In fact, I predict that within 30 to 50 years, they will be living and working right along side regular people with the same rights and opportunities as everyone else. And all their amazing intrigue and uniqueness will be forgotten and left by the wayside, like the luck dragon. They will be counted as just another casualty of the war waged under the banner of “Political Correctness.”
There is a contingent among us that is attempting to quail all that is special and beautiful and funny to look at. They, the PC Brigade, will not be happy till all is the same; a pasty blandness that sits on the observational palette tasteless and to be swallowed in one dry, vapid lump. Shame on them for attempting to strip midgets of their midget-ness. One can only assume that the Brigade is jealous of this uniqueness. They must be so ordinary that everywhere they witness the extraordinary, they work to remove the “extra” as to not feel inadequate. So what if you can save thousands by shopping at Baby Gap, or order off the kids menu, or play in the ball pool at Chucky Cheese, or chase rodents down small holes for sport. If you can’t do those things then you just have to find what does make you special and capitalize on them.
I decided to write this piece because I recently heard that the PC Brigade has even gone as far as to try and strip midgets of their name. They are now pushing to make them known as “little people.” I hope you are as shocked as I was. I’m confused. (No surprise, since mass confusion is often the goal of such immoral paradigm shift attempts.) We used to call children “little people.” Pretty soon they’ll be saying “brilliant child” is the proper term for midgets.
“I’d like you to meet my friend Jeff, he’s a brilliant child. That’s him over there with some other children. He’s the brilliant one… with the big head.”
I’m here to argue that this movement can only end badly. Have we learned nothing from history? We tried to assimilate the American Indian and we’re still paying for that mistake. I say free the American Midget. Reintroduce it into the wild, it’s native habitat, and pray that our attempt to juice-style blend all of Gods creatures into one homogeneous population hasn’t left irreversible damage on it.
United we stand… some taller than others.
There is a contingent among us that is attempting to quail all that is special and beautiful and funny to look at. They, the PC Brigade, will not be happy till all is the same; a pasty blandness that sits on the observational palette tasteless and to be swallowed in one dry, vapid lump. Shame on them for attempting to strip midgets of their midget-ness. One can only assume that the Brigade is jealous of this uniqueness. They must be so ordinary that everywhere they witness the extraordinary, they work to remove the “extra” as to not feel inadequate. So what if you can save thousands by shopping at Baby Gap, or order off the kids menu, or play in the ball pool at Chucky Cheese, or chase rodents down small holes for sport. If you can’t do those things then you just have to find what does make you special and capitalize on them.
I decided to write this piece because I recently heard that the PC Brigade has even gone as far as to try and strip midgets of their name. They are now pushing to make them known as “little people.” I hope you are as shocked as I was. I’m confused. (No surprise, since mass confusion is often the goal of such immoral paradigm shift attempts.) We used to call children “little people.” Pretty soon they’ll be saying “brilliant child” is the proper term for midgets.
“I’d like you to meet my friend Jeff, he’s a brilliant child. That’s him over there with some other children. He’s the brilliant one… with the big head.”
I’m here to argue that this movement can only end badly. Have we learned nothing from history? We tried to assimilate the American Indian and we’re still paying for that mistake. I say free the American Midget. Reintroduce it into the wild, it’s native habitat, and pray that our attempt to juice-style blend all of Gods creatures into one homogeneous population hasn’t left irreversible damage on it.
United we stand… some taller than others.
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