I was browsing around the Interweb thingy as I tend to do while waking up in the morning.
One of my essential ports of call is Primal Sneeze. I like his style. I like his attitude.
He says this is the Catholic Church being rammed down our throats.
“Good on ya!” I shout at Sneezy [as I affectionately call him], because I don’t like any religion being rammed down my throat.
But then I thought of the alternative.
This is perilously close to that ghastly world of the Politically Correct.
I hate that Politically Correct world. It is bland and colourless. You have to watch everything you say in case you might offend someone’s sensibilities. Some poor sensitive little soul might be offended by the word Christmas; so we call it Winter Holiday. Someone might have a nervous breakdown at the mention of St Patrick’s Day so we call it Green Day.
I feel sorry for these pathetic bastards who are so grossly offended by words [not you, Sneezy] that we have to tiptoe around in case they have a nervous breakdown. Call me a Mick, or a Paddy or a Red Neck Culchie. Do I shrivel up and die?
Bring back golliwogs and the Lyon’s Tea Minstrels. Let the building site be ruled by the foreman and not the foreperson.
If a woman chairs a meeting, does it remove her gender if we call her Chairman?
Bring back the Politically Incorrect. Bring back the colour. Let’s stop avoiding the cracks in the pavement.
Let’s have an International Politically Incorrect Day, and see what the Politically Correct try to call it.
And if you are offended by any of the above, then fuck off.
You snivelling little cry baby.
I have expanded on this post, as the Politically Correct have jumped on the bandwaggon and are accusing me of thing I never said. Sad.