Common Sense Prevails...If Only For a While

These types of stories still amazing me. I'm not sure which I'm more amazed at: being offended by a toy, or banning "offending material" because one person complains. If someone crapped on my dinner my first response wouldn't be to take offense. I would think, "Damn! What did I do to this guy? He doesn't look familiar." Now that may make me thick-skinned, but there's no reason that people have to get all worked up over business that isn't theirs.

Take the person in this article, getting offended by a toy pig. Hello. It's made out of plastic, or cloth, or some otherwise non-offensive material. How can a toy, made out of a non-offensive material offend you? Get real. If you don't like it, don't look at it. Does even the word "pork" offend you? Yes? Good...pork...pork, pork, pork...pork. PORK, PORK....PORKPORKPORK.

You know what would happen if I got to decide what was offensive and what wasn't, people would either wear burlap sacks and brown paper bags or they would be naked (women only thanks). Only naked isn't entirely true, 98% of everyone would have duct tape over their mouths. Not because what they say is offensive, but how they say it. I just don't want to listen too them.

Gone would be the Oxygen network, Fox executives, John Madden, and people who use the phrase "mute point". Out would be mushrooms, greeting cards, and all holidays other than Christmas and the 4th of July. Every member of congress would be looking for a job, and Best Grip Mike would be providing legally enforced community service at the weekly Young Republicans meeting.

But, as a white protestant male I have no individual authority. So I have to learn to suck it up. I have to listen to pop-rap music when I'm in the mall, watch my beloved sports succumb to corporate sponsorship (I've got your Degree All-in Moment right here!), try to figure out what all the colored ribbons and bracelets are for (like I care), and endure advertisements for all sorts of feminine products on television.

So all you people out there that think you've got something to be offended about; Kiss My Ass, I'm offended by you. My sensibilities are assailed on a daily basis but you don't see me go whining to HR. If you don't like it leave. Go to France, whining is a national pastime there. Or better yet, go to California. Based on current events and the overall mass of Michael Moore that slide into the Pacific can't be far away.