Excerpt from Lew Rockwell
I was sitting in a coffeehouse the other day, minding my own affairs and contemplating going outside for a pipe, when a young man sat at the nearest table. He unlimbered his personal electronic device and proceeded to regale us with rather irritating rap music. Then a woman walked in, sat down at another table, and politely asked this young man if he could please turn down the music. Well, of course, she was wrong. That wasn’t “music”, that was simply noised any backed up drain could make when a plunger is put to it. Be that as it may, the young man was “offended”. I found myself rather amused and clandestinely tuned in to see how this major incident in hate and bigotry would play out.
Evidently, this young man was of some Hispanic heritage, since he informed the coffeehouse of this status. Which was rather humorous since nobody paid attention to that fact in serving him or so on. He told this woman that he felt “disrespected” because she “pointed” towards him and such hand gestures are “racist”. Make a note of this, folks. If you are going to teach a class, for example, never point at the blackboard. That might be construed as a racist act and the blackboard might need to seek professional counseling and a legion of activists to tweet out angry diatribes about the status quo of the lighter complexioned people. Who, evidently, run the nation. Barring the current president, of course.
The rather ironic thing was this woman was of a minority group herself. I guess folks are resorting to an odd type of political cannibalism in this need to be offended over something that can be construed as “racism”. Assuming it isn’t racist to me to say that. And this woman at the coffeehouse backpedaled so quick to deny this racism that it created a time warp that spun us back into the 1800s. I was rather pleased because tobacco was cheaper back then and quickly wished to discover a good tobacconist before logic and reason catapulted us back into this lamentable present. Alas, she backpedaled more and spun us back before Columbus and I had to rush about to find a breechcloth and pay homage at the temple mound before I could do so.
It would appear that, soon, we shall not be able to say certain things without someone being offended and fifteen hours of groveling apologies will be necessary (and not accepted without accompanying checks, cash, and money orders) in order to appease the angry watchdogs of political ultra-correctness. I would guess we shall have to delete an entire color from the English lexicon to ensure that word isn’t accidently applied to phrases that might offend someone. I have no idea how this all manifested, but it is rather tiresome, to say the least.
As I have said here before, I don’t like talking about race. But at some point, this whole “I’m offended!” crap has got to stop. Hey, people, are you aware this is how wars start? Someone is “offended” and the next thing you know, we’ll have nuked fifteen cities and people will act like they don’t know how that war got started. People need to grow up and get over this. Look here, let me clue you in about something. People actually don’t care about you as much as you think they do. They’re not sitting there in the coffeehouse thinking, “I’ll put that (insert minority here) in his place!” They’re thinking, “I’d just like some peace and quiet without this guy’s rap competing with the coffeehouse’s decidedly awesome jazz that I enjoy.” But, see, the dude thinks he has the right to do whatever he wants without regard to anyone else. And if you don’t like it, he’ll turn it into a racial issue to justify his own poor public behavior.