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Political Correctness and the Real American

As usual, when people forget history, they get stupid. Even before that Trump Chump declared war on political correctness, a growing number of malcontents decried its existence and used it as a rallying cry for the like-minded.

But let’s not forget the state of affairs that preceded the advent of the dreaded p.c.

Like being called nigger or spic or gook or wop or kraut or kike or mackerel snapper or towelhead as though that was your family, genus and species.

Or being called faggot as you’re getting the hell beaten out of you for having the audacity to be yourself.

Or being pinched on the butt while working in an office where you’re paid 69 cents for every dollar the male offender received. Or being called old coot rather than senior or gimp rather than physically challenged or retard rather than mentally challenged.

I just bet that every single person reading this blog post falls into at least one of the above categories – and I also bet that if you delight in criticizing political correctness, you didn’t include your own personal epithet under that rubric.

No, political correctness is just the label some people slap on anything that deviates from the white male, WASP, upper class domination that has nearly destroyed this country.

In fact, disgust with political correctness and disdain for all it represents is merely a pose adopted by those who would rather have their Black folks in the field, their women in the kitchen and they gays properly closeted. But sorry, that’s just not going to happen anytime soon.

Because even when the 2.5 children having Leave it to Beaver white family was more prevalent than it is now, it was never the sole definition of America. And dogged insistence that such people are the only real Americans is the cancer that is killing the patient.

Mutual respect for our marvelous differences is merely an acknowledgement of what has always been. And political correctness is nothing more than simple, yet lamentably, uncommon courtesy.

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