Now we all know the importance of being politically correct, or P(ersonal) C(omputer), as it is called in slang terminology, but the deeper questions need answering:
Which minorities is it still okay to discriminate against? Which sexist jokes are funny in the new millenium? What is the best racist joke? Which minorities annoy us the most with their constant whiney complaining bollocks? Which ethnicities, sexualities and disabilities are the best ones to laugh at? Which belief system should we all mock for being the dumbest? These are the questions we students of New Zealand all must face. I mean none of us want to live with the shame of telling unfunny racist or sexist jokes, do we?
But no, the sad fact is that you can’t do ANYTHING these days without being politically incorrect. I mean you can’t even eat these days! If you eat meat – well that’s not very nice to meat, is it! Stop eating meat, all you people! You varsity know-it-alls probably won’t believe me here but science has now proven that meat is made out of animals! And animals are people, too! So stop eating them!
But you can’t eat vegetables and be politically correct, either! Don’t you know vegetables are alive? Vegetables have rights, man! Eating vegetables is offensive to the Green party and racist to little green men, because vegetables have green skin! So don’t eat vegetables! Vegetables are made out of dirt, which is the earth. So you’re eating the earth! You’re eating mother earth! Doesn’t that fill you with guilt? We’re eating our own mother!
So you’re going to kill yourself because you can’t be politically correct? I don’t think so. What about the people that have to organise your funeral? What about the people who go to your funeral wearing black, which is taking the piss out of bogans, emos and goths? Bogans and goths are people too, so don’t eat them. It’s ok to eat emos, but I wouldn’t, because they look all skinny and vampish, like Ethiopians. You need some meat on the bone. You’d have to eat heaps of them to fill up. Eating a bogan would be alright, you’d get drunk at the same time.
No, you’re pretty much screwed. You’ll never be able to call yourself politically correct. You can’t do ANYTHING. You can’t even just lie there and wither up, because you’ll get sunburnt. Which offends your mother.
Time.
These days you can’t even sleep politically correctlyish. I mean, when you’re asleep someone else is up working the night shift! That’s not equal. They’re at work doing the boring old night shift and you’re in bed asleep dreaming of your ultimate magic deck (Thallid or Goblin) – that’s totally unfair! Especially if you’re the boss, then it violates workers rights. Then again, if you are the boss then they’re probably asleep too, in which case you should sneak into work and frighten them (“Why aren’t you working?!!!” “AAAARRRGGGHH!!! I didn’t see you coming, boss!”).
When I did night shift at the servo I used to have to sleep the whole shift to balance out the equilibrium constant of the political correctness. This is because I was aware, even those years ago, of the importance of being politically correct. So now, Salient has sought out my ranting, befriended me, even going so far as trying to scab one of my beers, which I scabbed off someone else fair and square, so I didn’t give them one. Hey! Those beers are MINE. I’ve forgotten what I was talking about. I mean writing about. I mean whatever. But the Salient staff are pretty cool, I go and hang out there in the office, which gives me yet another excuse to skip lectures on whatever the hell I’m studying.
So we here in New Zealand absolutely hate political correctness. I mean we hate political incorrectness. I think. We also hate hatred and people who hate anything, even a minority. So I feel you, the people, the swarming, teeming masses, who swarm and teem at the mass of media that us here in the free magazine industry sell to you, have a right to know what is happening to your country, that is being sold off to foreigners in a move to avoid a huge scandal of international political incorrectness.
(Authors note: When I sobered up enough to re-read this column, I realized that it was INCREDIBLY preachy and ranty, which I liked, because I’m always right. About everything. I would also like to point out that it has more exclamation marks than any of my other columns, so you might want to wear some earplugs. Cheers – Guy)