You know, I consider myself a reasonable, thoughtful person. I am one of those who asks if dinner guests have any allergies or food preferences. I try to keep in mind if someone prefers not to hear about certain topics because they had a bad experience (or evil ex, or whatever) in the past. I understand that there are certain things that may be innocuous in some cultures and misunderstood in others (like Schwarze Piet or the penitential robes and hoods worn by confraternities in Spain during Lent). But I think I’m about to reach a limit that’s best not crossed. Because over that bridge lies a side of my personality that nice people really do not want to meet in a dark alley at night. Think Abney Park’s song “The Wrong Side.”
A, not exactly a “perfect storm,” but a trifecta of events washed up in my world recently that caused me to contemplate doing a whole string of legal, harmless, and absolutely stone-cold politically incorrect things. It started with the EEOC deciding that the Gadsden Flag is racist because, um, someone said that they felt it was racist. Then a group is handing out materials so grade school students can decide if they are straight or otherwise and includes a bit claiming that using the term “sex” to refer to biological condition is transphobic. And then I got a very nice patch in the mail. It’s a lovely patch, the emblem is well done and attractive. BUT the reason is because a certain unit logo that goes back 50 years at least is now forbidden because it resembles *GASP* the Stars-n-Bars if you don’t really look at the thing. And so Ye Old Insignia is now verboten and must be stripped from everything and a new, harmless, inoffensive design will replace it (at owners’ expense, of course).
OK, now I’m pissed. It is the sheer piling up of stuff that is pushing me to that bridge. It is the growing desire to turn around and say “OK, let me get this straight. You want to rewrite biology to suit your current tastes. You want to cut out chunks of history and replace them rather than talk about why some people have different opinions about them. You want to ban any visual representation of a flag because it represents an eeeeevil thing that you also talk about endlessly because said eeeevil thing forms the foundation of your worldview and life goals. You want to make a private joke with a long and honorable past de facto illegal. You want to take a piece of US Navy and Revolutionary War history and declare it racist because it was adopted by a group of citizens who want less government intrusion and who include every skin tone from ‘charred asphalt’ to ‘new fallen snow.’ And you want me to swallow this without even a pretense of sugar on top?”
You know, at a certain point enough is enough. It’s like several other people on the ‘Net and in print have been warning. If you call someone a rat-bastard often enough, they are going to say “Sod it” and start acting like the rat-bastard you claim they are. I’m strongly tempted to wave that EEOC-prohibited flag, along with a few others that come to mind. I want to get a British East India Company tee-shirt. Or drive past a PETA meeting and throw hamburger patties at them. Or ask a certain activist for the genetic code that explains why homosexuality is genetic but heterosexuality is socially conditioned and exactly how that biological mechanism works.
I’m not going to, not in the near future. But oh boy howdy am I getting closer and closer to the “Oh, Sod this” point.