Political Correctness
For some years now I have felt that all this business of political correctness has gone much too far. It has gotten to the point where a minority culture of anti-discrimination purists has somehow gained the right to edit the dictionary on their terms, and as a consequence there is no Freedom of Speech left for the majority who wish to conduct conversation in the language that they have used for the larger portion of their lives. No-one, in the course of a public address or conversation, is permitted to describe another as short, nor as retarded. In the terminology of the language purists these individuals must be termed vertically and mentally challenged. This is a total denial of the realities of life. In both the foregoing instances, given that the individuals being described with these labels have reached the age of majority, they once were faced with vertical and mental challenges. Having failed to rise to the challenge they have wound up either short, or retarded. That is fact and no amount of political correctness can alter the current reality that one will never be a basketball star, nor the other get a Doctorate in Mathematics.
As a prime example of the dire consequences that could arise from this censoring of our "common" language, let me propose an example in the person of Sheila Copps, our much maligned former Deputy Prime Minister, whatever her current title might be. I don't like Ms. Copps very much, never have, and on more than one occasion over the previous years I have called her a "Stupid Bitch." This is no longer acceptable terminology. Now I should describe her as an "intellectually handicapped canine of the female gender". This may be politically correct but a lot of the punch got lost in the translation, and a certain amount of accuracy.
Somehow "intellectually challenged" misses the point that this broad really is stupid. She will never, ever, understand all those words with more than two syllables. In addition a "bitch" is not just a female dog. It is also a female human with a severe attitude problem usually just before her "time of the month". Confronted by a polysyllabic statement as demanded by the Correctness purists, and poor Ms. Copps would probably become totally confused and throw one of those "Stupid Bitch" fits that can only be overcome by a damned good swat upside her head.
All I wanted to do was call her names, not have to slap her back to reality. I don't believe in gratuitous violence.
On further examination, this correctness nonsense has gone much too far, and by and large it is enforced by a group of zealots with no sense of humour, backed up by a collection of chickenshit politicians who can't stand to be laughed at. The reality of the situation is that if you can't make fun of stereotypes and people's differences and unique foibles, there's not much left in this world that is funny. I just don't understand this super sensitivity about race and sex and stuff, when the worst tellers of racist jokes are the racee's the jokes are all about. Jews tell Jew jokes, Newfies tell Newfy jokes, Niggers tell Nigger jokes, and Women try to tell jokes about other Women. Unfortunately, ladies, when the joke gets close to home and personal, you usually don't have much of a sense of humour at all.
I don't understand it. They can get up and tell a joke and it's funny. I get up and tell the same joke and I'm labeled a bigoted, racist, male chauvinist pig. That might all be true but it's still not fair. But I've never let being called names stand in my way and I'm going to tell you a true story about a place where Women were not allowed and where men were allowed to really have some fun without fear of political censorship.
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The Measuring Contest
Way back in the dawn of prehistory when I was a young man, the Puritan forces that governed the Province of Alberta dictated that the Beer Parlours in many of the small towns had to be split in half. One side was for "Ladies and Escorts" where the men had to behave like Gentlemen, and the other was the "Men's" side where we could behave like the normal animals we are.
One Saturday afternoon I was bored and having not much else to do, I decided to drop down to our local Hotel and see if anything interesting was going on. I had just settled into my chair in the "Men's" side, enjoying a glass of my favourite pale ale off the tap, when I noticed that the table next to mine was occupied by four strangers to our small town . They were getting very excited and their voices kept rising with each passing minute. This naturally aroused my curiosity, for strangers were a novelty in our small community, and I decided to stay for a time and find out what all the excitement was about.
Now these were strange looking fellows. One was a Limey type guy; all dressed up in a bowler hat, three piece suit, with an umbrella and polished shoes. Another one was a Scotty, complete with kilt and sporran, with his bagpipes stuck up in the corner behind him. The third guy was one of those there Orthodox Jew guys. I'd never seen one before but I knew what he was from pictures I'd seen in the National Geographic. He had a big black beard, and a wide brimmed black hat, and he had those funny little curls of hair, dreadknots I think they're called, hanging down by his ears. The last guy was a weenie little black fellow all dressed up in a cowboy outfit. He was only about four feet tall, but he was real cocky, and I figured he was probably a jockey from one of those greyhound races I'd read about.
It turned out that they weren't acting much different from our local fellows when it came to "Men's" side behaviour. They were getting themselves all worked up arguing about who had the biggest pecker at the table. A couple of more beers and the situation started getting serious and finally got to the "Put your money where your mouth is" stage, with a couple of hundred bucks piled up in the middle of the table.
They flipped a coin and the Limey guy had to go first so he stands up and unbuttons his fly and reaches in and pulls out this pale, pasty white, wrinkly thing, about five inches long on the edge of the table and starts to reach for the money.
"Hoot, mon', yells the Scotty, "Put that poor anemic thing of yours away, Laddy, or he'll get a complex when he meets his big brother!". He reaches under his kilt and whips out a large red veined garlic sausage with a little toque on its head, and he grabs the toque and stretches it and he's got a full nine inches!
The Jew jumps up and slams the table and yells, "No foreskins was in the bet. Let it go!" and the Scotty did and it snapped back and he's only got a mere seven inches that even I could have beaten.
The Jew steps up to the edge of the table, unzips the fly in his black polyester pants and lays out what looks like a piece of pepperoni sausage on it. It's only about 1/2" wide but the thing is a full ten inches long. The Scotty throws up his hands in disgust and the Jew started to reach for the money when the little black guy says, "Hold on there, Rabbi, it's my turn now!"
He jumps down from his chair, runs over to the corner of the bar and drags over two cases of empty beer bottles and builds a sort of footstool and climbs up on them and just manages to get his crotch up to table height. He fishes in his pants and finally manages to get a little two inch long piece of wrinkly black laid onto the table edge. The other three fellows took one look and they all just burst out laughing.
This didn't seem to bother the little black guy one bit.
He just stood there patiently until they were all finished gasping and choking and wiping the tears out of their eyes, then he just says, "Fellows, you ain't seen nothin' yet!". He reaches into his back pocket and takes out a little plastic package and unwraps a slimy, rotten, smelly piece of old dead fish and he reaches down and draws a long S curved line from the end of his pecker to the other side of the table and drops the piece there. Then he stands up real straight, takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders and looks down at his weenie little pecker and says,
"Sic "em, boy".
Now let me tell you, watching' that bloodhound take up the trail was one of the most interesting things I ever did see. The other most interesting was seeing' what it did when it caught up to the bait!
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