Earlier today, I was sitting at an intersection waiting for the light to turn green. As I waited, I felt that familiar rumbling in my chest and rattling of the rearview mirror that occur when one of those cars with the bass-thumping stereos pulls up alongside. I was looking around me and in my mirrors trying to determine who the thoughtful fellow driver was so that I could decide which direction to point my special finger at them when the light finally changed.
I saw the little silver Toyota with the two, white, grandma-ish women inside.
Probably not them.
I saw the gas guzzling pickup with the big, burly, unshaven driver and the ladder and shovels in the back.
Not so much him, either.
Then I saw the big, pimped-out, shiny SUV with the half-open sun roof. The driver was a hispanic male with a mostly-shaved head donning some very black shades.
Jackpot.
As traffic started moving and said SUV drove past me, speakers a-thumpin', I learned that my assumption was correct. Shocker.
This got me thinking about a recent post I made on my Facebook wall where I was nervy enough to make note of the fact that our president, for the mere fact that he is a black person, would probably like stuff like watermelon, corn bread, and fried chicken.
I know: GASP ... EXCLAMATION POINT!
"What do these two seemingly unrelated events have to do with one another," one might ask? Hmm.
I looked around at a group of drivers on the road and determined--based solely on what I observed--that the Mexican-looking guy in the SUV was most likely the one with the annoyingly loud speakers. YES, I just said "Mexican-looking." "Mexican" is not a derogatory term, regardless of what the Left would try and make you believe. It's a nationality. If someone called me Canadian looking because my skin is a bright white hue that could only be the result of being raised in the Great White North (sadly, it's true), I'd likely correct them, but I wouldn't be offended. My mother, whose soul is whiter than June Cleaver and Sarah Palin combined, is regularly mistaken for a Mexican due to her dark hair and slightly olive complexion. And it's all OK. Promise.
So does my correct assumption about the stereo make me a racist? Or does this simply mean that I've not yet fallen victim to the line of thinking that has made people terrified of acknowledging that there are REAL differences in races and cultures? The liberal Left claims to have mastered diversity and tolerance, yet it is they who create division by making the rest of us feel as though the mere mention of our differences is some kind of hate crime worthy of the death penalty.
So does my correct assumption about the stereo make me a racist? Or does this simply mean that I've not yet fallen victim to the line of thinking that has made people terrified of acknowledging that there are REAL differences in races and cultures? The liberal Left claims to have mastered diversity and tolerance, yet it is they who create division by making the rest of us feel as though the mere mention of our differences is some kind of hate crime worthy of the death penalty.
Oh wait. That's not entirely true. Non-whites have carte blanche (pun sort of intended) on poking fun at the white race and culture. White people can't dance. White people got no skeeeelz on the court. White people love the light rock stations.
What's so very puzzling to me is that the Left has deemed themselves judge and jury in terms of what's funny and what's not. If it's funny to them, you're allowed to laugh. If it's unfunny to them and they deem it offensive, you are a racist and a homophobe for even daring to say it or think it. Oh, and you have no sense of humor. What are the rules for what's offensive and what's funny? Don't ask me. I'm a conservative. I have no say in these matters. Furthermore, it seems I have no sense of humor, either. So to all my friends who think I'm funny: Quit that. You're wrong.
Now, please brace yourself (especially if you are a liberal), because I am about to type something that is going to turn your world upside down and get your panties in a painfully twisted bunch.
There is nothing in the world wrong with stereotypes.
Go ahead: GASP ... EXCLAMATION POINT!
Stereotypes exist because groups--races, cultures, individuals--live up to them. The notion that white people love light rock stations does not exist because someone made it up out of their hatred for white folk. It exists because it is often, though not always, THE TRUTH. Can all of you clearly-thinking people wrap your minds around this concept? More panty-twisting shockers for you:
Gays like Barry Manilow. (I learned that by watching Will and Grace, the foremost authority on what gays like)
Mexicans like to put mayonnaise on everything. (Ask anyone who's spent any time there)
Chinese people mix up their R's and their L's. (Dear liberal friends: In one of my favorite movies of all time, A Christmas Story, this fact is hilariously portrayed by the Chinese waiters whose version of "Deck the Halls" comes out as "fa-ra-ra-ra-ra----ra-ra-ra-raaa." Am I allowed to think that's funny or is that on the offensive list now? I really can't keep up with the hourly changes to the rules).
Mormons love green Jell-o salad and parties with free food. (I AM a Mormon. Don't even try to argue this one with me)
Italians kill people. (Have you NEVER seen The Godfather? Good Fellas?)
Italians kill people. (Have you NEVER seen The Godfather? Good Fellas?)
While these statements aren't necessarily true of every member of these groups, they certainly hold true for a major portion, with the exception of the Italians stereotype. I'm pretty sure it's only the New York and Chicago Italians who go around killing people.
To point out cultural differences is not racist. To acknowledge stereotypes is not racist. For one to believe that he is far superior to another simply because of his race is absolutely and without question racist. There IS a difference.
So please, people, get a grip on your politically correct, superduperhyper-sensitivities run amok. Just crank some Barry Manilow on the Hi-Fi and relax with a bowl of green Jell-o salad. I myself will be tuned in to the local light rock station and working on my moon walk.
Sorry I'm not sorry.
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