Thursday, March 22, 2007

On the offensive

If you are looking for political correctness, try the second door on the left, the one which opens up on to a thousand foot precipice. Here, my beloveds, we are unreconstructed. I have no problem if a black man calls me honky or whitey, and I am sure he will not love me for calling him an African American. Did you ever hear anything so daft in your life? It's like calling me Scandinavian British, just because (judging from my surname and my physical characteristics), I am descended from a race of nordic arsonists, rapists and pillagers (Important NB: I admit to some minor arson during my career, but I never found rape an attractive alternative to self-abuse, and I don't think I ever pillaged, mainly because I don't know what pillage is: stealing old people's medication, perhaps?)
All the foregoing is an apologia for a dinky cartoon sent me by JSF. Every nation has its fall guys. For the French, it is the Belgians, for the Swiss, it is the Appenzellers, for the Turks, it is the Laz, for the British, it is the Irish, for the Americans, it is the Poles, and so on. And it doesn't mean a damn thing, so, for the pc among you, leave now, because you are seriously screwed up.

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