What’s Wrong with Being “Politically Correct”?

I’m tired of being criticized for being civil — and you should be, too.

I was at an impromptu neighborhood gathering the other day.

Most of the people in the group were thinking people who understand the difference between right and wrong and the importance of having a civil society where we work together to make the country a better place for all of us. But one couple among us had many of the ideas espoused by Fox News and other right-wing media: that the country’s problems can be blamed on high taxes, handouts to poor people, and, of course, immigrants. Since they were hosting the gathering (in an offhand way that really doesn’t matter for this discussion) the rest of us were walking on eggshells, afraid to say anything that would “set them off.”

You can probably guess how each of us feel about Trump being president. And if you’re not a Trump supporter but are friends with or related to people who are, I’m sure you know exactly what I mean about “setting them off.” These days, it’s difficult to maintain a friendship with people in the opposite camp any time politics comes up. Simply said, those who don’t support Trump think Trump supporters are either stupid, gullible, racist, greedy, or crazy. Or a combination of some of those things. I suspect Trump supporters think Trump detractors are just plain dumb.

It’s unfortunate that we have to go through the exercise of a Trump presidency for history to report which group was correct.

Slurs from our Childhood

Brazil Nuts
Public domain image of Brazil nuts from Wikipedia.

I don’t remember exactly how — I think it all started with rhymes we knew as kids that would not be acceptable in today’s society — but the topic of conversation turned to racial slurs. If you’re white and you’re old enough, you might remember certain phrases being quite common. It suddenly became a competition to list the common names for everyday things that would no longer be considered acceptable in polite society. (The one for Brazil nuts is a good example; Google it.) Then came company ad slogans and imagery. I admit that I hadn’t heard or seen many of them. I’m a bit younger than the others and maybe the fact that I had black friends and neighbors when I was a kid made it unwise for adults to mention such words and phrases in front of me. Growing up in the New York City Metro area probably had a bit to do with it, too.

(A side note here. I was born in 1961. Even in the late 60s and early 70s, my formative years, I had an idea of what a racial slur was. I clearly remember the day that one of my fourth grade classmates called one of my black friends a nigger in my presence. I nearly got into a fistfight with him and he didn’t do it again.)

Of course, a discussion like this is fuel for right wingers, who immediately start talking about how the country is “too politically correct now” and “people are afraid to say what they think.” And, of course, the husband of the Trump-supporting couple started going that way. He spoke up: “You can’t say those things now because it’s not politically correct.” He made sure to pronounce those last two words with as much scorn and ridicule as he could throw into their syllables.

I was already pretty much out of the conversation, not having anything to contribute and not wanting to contribute anything anyway. I honestly found the entire conversation disturbing and even rather shameful. But alarm bells were going off in my head. It was a nice afternoon and I was enjoying a glass of wine with people I mostly liked. (Yes, I even liked the Trump supporters when they didn’t talk about their political beliefs.) If the conversation went political, I’d have to make a quick exit and I really didn’t want to gulp the rest of my wine.

Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one hearing silent alarm bells. The group got quiet for a moment. Then someone else who had been in the conversation skillfully steered it in another direction. I breathed a sign of relief and joined the new conversation, eager to leave the old one behind.

Political Correctness Explained

I don’t remember when the phrase politically correct came into general use in this country. I’d Google it, but as I type this I’m sitting at a campground picnic table without any possibility of an Internet connection. I did use the dictionary built into my little MacBook Air to see what it would tell me. Surprisingly, it came up with a quote from Michael Dirda that says pretty much what I wanted to explain. I’ll let him say it for me:

The tediously overworked phrase politically correct can be used only with a smile, whether of irony or slightly embarrassed affection. Originally, the politically correct were those who ardently championed the rights of women, people of color, homosexuals, and other long-marginalized groups. But politically correct rapidly came to be associated with adherents who were overscrupulous in these observances, in short, zealots. Today most people recognize the fundamental justice of many, if not all, the legal and social advances linked to political correctness, but no one really cares to be called PC. The fight has largely been won, at least de jure if not always de facto, and so the term now sounds a bit old-fashioned, and usually carries an undertone of mild vexation or benign indulgence: Oh, Joan, she’s so politically correct!

I don’t know when Mr. Dirda wrote that, but in recent years, politically correct has taken another turn. It has been co-opted by the right to be slung as an insult to those on the left. These people don’t seem to recognize the justice of social advances linked to political correctness, as Mr. Dirda believes most people do. To them, political correctness is a farce — something to be laughed at.

And that’s a real shame.

Some Ideas are Incorrect

View from the Cheap Seats
Great book of essays that really make you think.

What got me thinking about this today, as I sit in a nearly deserted campground looking out at a secluded mountain lake in a smoky National Forest, is the very first essay in Neil Gaiman’s nonfiction compilation, The View from the Cheap Seats. That’s what I was reading just moments ago, while sitting in a folding chair facing out over the lake. Called “Credo,” it begins by talking about ideas. I don’t know where it goes from there — something on its very first page got me thinking about political correctness and I stopped reading while the idea to write this took control of me.

What triggered this overwhelming desire to write an essay about political correctness? This:

I believe that ideas do not have to be correct to exist.

How timely! This book was published in 2016, yet within the past month the war of ideas — both right and wrong — has been going strong. Charlottesville brought part of it front and center with a large gathering of Nazis, KKK members, and other white supremacists. This brought out protesters opposing their hate speech and resulted in violence when the two factions clashed, culminating in a senseless death and injuries of protesters when a white supremacist allegedly drove his car into them on purpose.

I think it’s an understatement to say that the ideas of Nazism and white supremacy are incorrect. Countless people around the world agree. These ideas are hateful and certainly un-American. America fought wars against these ideas and won. And, if need be, I’m sure we wouldn’t hesitate to fight them again.

The President of the United States should be, among other things, a moral leader who publicly, in no uncertain terms, condemns things that are widely accepted as un-American and downright wrong. Every president before him has done this after every American tragedy brought on by a difference in ideas — whether it’s Lincoln’s stand against slavery or Obama’s comments following the racially motivated shooting of elderly people at a church prayer meeting in Charleston.

Trump’s failure to condemn Nazis and white supremacists, in part, supports the view of his rabid followers that political correctness simply doesn’t matter. It also gives a boost to those who are pushing their morally wrong ideas, sending a message that their harmful, divisive views can be just as acceptable as those of the people who protest against them. It supports political incorrectness.

(And don’t try to tell me that morals should be left to religious leaders. Doing so reveals your own prejudices against those who don’t practice a religion — a growing percentage of the population throughout the world, including many of your neighbors, co-workers, and even friends and family members. Many of these people have higher moral standards than so many of the church leaders you look up to.)

The Importance of Political Correctness in Civil Society

Let me go back to our neighborhood gathering.

The racial slurs we talked about that weren’t necessarily recognized as such by white Americans in the 1950s and 1960s are still hurtful and wrong, especially today when we have a better grasp of how they affect the people they disparage. That’s what makes them politically incorrect. Is there anything wrong with that?

Are the people who mock those of us who try to be politically correct telling us that it’s okay be hurtful? That we can — or should — use language charged with racism or hate to inflict pain on our fellow men and women?

After all, isn’t that what political correctness is all about? Being sensitive to the feelings of other people?

And isn’t that a cornerstone of civilized society? Simply caring about our fellow man enough to have the courtesy not to insult or hurt him with words?

We don’t tolerate bullying in our school systems. Why should we tolerate it as adults in our everyday lives? Isn’t it the same? Using language or actions to spread hate and demean other people?

Isn’t being politically correct the same as being kind and civil?

What’s wrong with that?

Stop the Hate

There is an overabundance of hate and intolerance in today’s world. It has overwhelmed us, it permeates every fiber of our daily lives. It’s eating away at us from the inside, chewing away at our brains, making us blind to what’s good about other people and the world we live in. It’s stopping us from moving forward as a society; it’s preventing us from embracing our differences, learning from each other, and working together to make a better world.

We have the ability to stop it in its tracks. Being politically correct — not saying hurtful things to or about others — is a good way to start.

So yes, I’ll do my part. I’ll try to be politically correct — and be proud of it.

Another Waste of Taxpayer Money

I knew the FAA was slow, but this is ridiculous.

I’m terrible about opening my mail. I routinely fetch it from my mailbox (which is two miles from my home) and leave it on the dashboard of whatever vehicle I’m driving. Or toss it behind the seat. Or bring it inside, but leave it in my “inbox” pile. No matter where it enters my life, it sits there for a long time. Truth be told, there’s a six-month period in early 2014 when I just stuffed it all in a box and lost it in my garage. (I honestly think there’s a black hole in there.)

This time of year, when I’m actually expecting checks, I pay a little closer attention to what comes in the mail. That’s why I noticed the letter from the FAA and opened it within two weeks of receipt. (Heck, I knew the FAA wasn’t sending a check, so why rush?)

Inside was the letter dated 5/19/2017 that you can see below.

FAA Letter
So the FAA basically waited 17 years to give me an opportunity to opt out of releasing my address to the public.

It basically says that back on April 5, 2000 (not a typo), Congress and the President — Bush 43, I guess — enacted a law that required the FAA to make pilot addresses available to the public. Fortunately, I can opt-out of this invasion of my privacy by signing the letter and sending it back to the FAA.

But I have to hurry! Even though it took them 17 years to send me this letter, I only have 90 days to respond.

Can you believe this crap?

My first thought was what a waste of taxpayer money this is. Wikipedia reports that there were 590,039 certificated pilots in the United States as of 2015 year-end. That means the FAA had to print and mail 590,039 letters just like the one I got.

Maybe that’s why it took so long? Maybe they just got up to the Ls?

So the FAA has blown through 1181 reams of paper and a similar number of boxes of envelopes. Even if they got bulk rate on mailing all those envelopes, they’ve still spent well over $100,000 on postage. Somebody had to handle the mailing — even if a machine stuffed the envelopes, someone still had to tend to that machine and get them to the post office. How many trips to the Post Office is that? Do they have trucks standing by for mass mailings like this?

So how much money have they pissed away on this so far? A quarter million? More?

And then there’s the processing. I’m not going to the website. I’m going to sign the letter and mail it back. There’s got to be some poor slob in Oklahoma City who’s sitting at a desk just waiting for envelopes with signed letters to come in. He or she has to look up each one in the system and toggle a check box to say we want our addresses kept private. And then what? Do they actually file all that paper? Stick it in filing cabinets? How many filing cabinets do they have? How many rooms does that fill? Do they have buildings filled with filing cabinets of paper?

Paper!

And for what? What gives Congress and the President the right to decide that the public is entitled to the addresses of certificated pilots? What is the benefit of such a rule? Why would they even do this?

And who the hell wouldn’t opt out?

This is stupid from start to end. it’s wallpapered with stupid.

But that’s our tax dollars at work. Imagine how many educational programs the cost of this mailing would have funded. How many Meals on Wheels dinners. How many airport improvements, for Pete’s sake.

Why are the people in Washington so damn stupid with our money?

Why I’m Not Blogging about Politics

A post in which I proceed to blog about politics.

If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I’m very involved there with politics. But if you follow this blog, you know that I very seldom blog about it.

I’ll make my position clear here just once: I don’t like Donald Trump. I think he’s a conman who isn’t sincere about anything he promised his base during the campaign. I think his only goal as president is to make himself and his family richer by playing the system any way he can. I think that the only reason he’s a [supposed] billionaire is because he started life with millions he got from his father, consistently cuts project costs by not paying his contractors what he owes them, and has been bailed out after more than a few bad business decisions. For Pete’s sake, the guy has six bankruptcies under his belt — doesn’t that speak volumes? How people can trust and believe in a conman like this is beyond me.

I think he’s semi-literate, a guy with a tiny vocabulary who can’t be bothered to prepare for meetings or speeches because he thinks he can bluff his way through them — and everyone lowers their standards to make sure he does.

I also think he’s a crazy narcissist who needs constant ego stroking, a true man-child who can only focus on things that affect him personally. I think he’s delusional in the sense that he rewrites events in his own mind to fit the narrative he wants to tell about himself and then actually believes the new story. Simply said, he believes his own lies.

I think members of his staff likely did collude with Russia during the election — and maybe he did, too — and that Putin definitely has enough dirt on him to make him march to his tune. I think he’s hiding far more than he’s revealing and I’m sure that what he’s hiding is plenty to be ashamed of.

And no, I don’t want to debate it. So save your pro-Trump comments for some other blog.

And yes, I would like to see him removed from office. Impeachment would be nice. So would a resignation. Heck, I’d probably celebrate if he just dropped dead of a heart attack.

(Not that I think Pence is good for this country, but that’s a whole other story.)

But that doesn’t mean I’m one of the rabid left wing anti-Trump kooks that are making fools of themselves by believing every single Trump conspiracy theory thrown at them.

And I’m outraged by the people cooking up these theories and pushing them. While it’s possible that these people actually believe the nonsense they’re spouting, I think it’s a lot more likely that they’re trying to secure a position for themselves on the far left like Alex Jones’s position on the far right: offensive nut jobs who can turn a buck by building a following of gullible people on the left who are desperate for any hope that Trump will be removed from office in shame.

And I’m fed up with people who tweet and retweet these theories and then get upset with me when I advise them not to believe anything until it’s published by a credible news source. As if I’m somehow “the enemy” because I’m not as gullible and desperate as they are.

Seriously?

I recently changed the tweet pinned to the top of my Twitter profile page in an effort to advise people who are going nuts these days over what they’re seeing and reading and believing. Will it help? Probably not. But it’s my new mantra when it comes to politics: “PAY ATTENTION, everyone. Think before you react. Check before you believe. And, for pete’s sake, CALM DOWN!”

While there are similarities and differences between our current state of political affairs and the Watergate scandal that brought down Nixon, I have full confidence that the legal system will do the right thing when it comes to dealing with Trump.

Eventually.

Until then, I see no reason to blog about politics anymore. I have more interesting — and positive — things to write about.

Want to comment on this post? Comments are open — for now. But there are a few strings attached.

First, read the Comment Policy. You’ll find a very informative comic there about “free speech” that perfectly illustrates my thoughts on the matter. If your comment violates this policy in any way, it will be deleted before it even appears. Even I won’t read it.

Second, if your comment mentions Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama (or emails or Benghazi, etc.) as a reason for supporting Trump now, today, after all the shit that’s come down since the election, I will delete your comment. If you can’t make a 2017 argument for supporting Trump, you obviously haven’t thought much about what’s going on and have nothing worth sharing here. Go back to your Fox News bubble and leave the rest of us who actually care about the future of our country alone.

Third, don’t expect me to debate with you on the merits of Donald Trump. I won’t. No matter how nicely you present your argument, thus getting it past moderation, I will not reply. I’ve said everything I have to say above and you cannot convince me that I’m wrong about any of it.

If you want to respond to someone who has commented, keep that comment policy in mind. And keep it civil. If I don’t spend all of my time moderating this post’s comments, the comments will stay open. But if moderation becomes a chore, I’ll shut it down.

Seriously, I have better things to do with my time than deal with MAGA trolls.

Paying It Forward: Retro Dinette Edition

When a Craig’s List sale isn’t exactly a “sale.”

Years ago, when I lived in Arizona and was nearing the peak of my writing career, I had a lot of disposable income. Before I began dumping it into aviation and what would become my third career as a helicopter pilot, I invested that extra cash in real estate. One year, I bought a condo in town to use as a rental. The following year I got more ambitious and bought a property with a two bedroom, two bath house and a four unit apartment building on it.

The apartments, which were studios, were functional and cute. They were all furnished; the previous owner had lived in the house with her grown son and rented the apartments out to an assortment of low income folks and winter visitors. The furniture was the kind of stuff you’d find at a garage sale. In fact, that’s where most of it ended up since I wound up refurnishing every unit with southwest style lodgepole furniture made on order by a small company in Phoenix. I was trying to make the place a little more upscale, hoping to attract a different sort of tenant. (For the record, I count that as one of my failures.)

Retro Dinette
The table and chairs pose for a Craig’s List photo against my garage door. One chair was in perfect condition while the other had some upholstery issues. And yes, they are kind of ugly.

I did keep a few items, including a drop-leaf formica table and two vinyl-covered chairs. I don’t know why I kept them; maybe they reminded me of my childhood? They were certainly from that era — the 1960s or maybe even earlier — and well-made. They eventually wound up in my Wickenburg hangar where the table became a stand for my small hangar fridge and the microwave I kept on top of it. The chairs didn’t get much use.

When I moved out of my Wickenburg hangar in September 2013, the table and chairs were packed into the moving truck along with boxes of household items and other better furniture. They were unpacked into a hangar in East Wenatchee, where they sat with my other furniture until June 2014. That’s when they moved again, this time into my new home in Malaga. And it might come as no surprise that my little fridge wound up on top of the table again in my big garage.

As anyone who has been in my garage can tell you, I have a lot of stuff. Too much stuff, in fact. I’m one of those people who holds onto things if I think they might have any use at all in the future. (This also explains why I still own the Jeep Wrangler I bought new in 1999, the Honda S2000 I bought new in 2003, and the Yamaha Seca II I bought new in 1993; heck, I do use them all. It also explains why I have such a big garage.) Little by little, I’ve been selling off the stuff I no longer need/use/want. When I bought a nice rolling media cart at a school sale last year and the little fridge went on top of that, I no longer had any use at all for the table. So I listed it on Craig’s List.

I should mention that I tried to sell it last year, too. The table is probably considered an “antique” and it likely has some real value. I think I listed it for $80 last year but didn’t get a single call.

This year, I listed it for $40. It’s not as if I needed the money. It’s just that when you list something with any value for free on Craig’s List, you get all kinds of weird characters competing to claim it. I didn’t want to deal with all that.

I got a call from a girl who was interested but unable to come see it. She said she’d call back but I didn’t hear from her again.

Then I got a call from a guy in Seattle — a 3+ hour drive from here — who was very eager to come. He called at 3 PM on a Sunday and asked if he could come that night. I suspect he realized that the table had some value; maybe he even knew where he could sell it to turn a quick buck on the west side. I said, “You want to drive all the way out here for a $40 table?” He hesitated and then said, “I like retro furniture.” But I guess I’d planted a seed in his head. Was it really worth six to eight hours of a day to scoop up this bargain? What would gas cost? And what if the condition of the table wasn’t as good as he expected? He told me he’d call back. I never heard from him again.

I renewed the listing on Craig’s list. Another girl called. In all honesty, it could be the first girl. She lived in Chelan and could come Monday after work. She got out at 5 PM and would be here by 6. I didn’t tell her that it would take more than an hour to get here from Chelan.

She showed up at 6:45, still dressed for work, full of apologies. By that time, I had the garage door open for her. As we walked to where I’d stowed it in the back of the garage, a small pickup truck with a cap pulled up. She told me her parents had come in case she couldn’t get it in her car. That meant two vehicles had made the hour+ drive from Chelan. Soon we were all in the garage looking at the table.

I struggled to figure out how the supports for the drop leafs worked and finally succeeded in raising one side. It was a cool mechanism that I had completely forgotten about — the legs of the table actually slid out on a wooden track. (Seriously: they don’t make stuff like this anymore.) Her mom sat in one of the chairs. We chatted. I asked her if it was for her first apartment and she said it was.

I thought back to my first apartment. I was 20 years old and right out of college. It was a big studio with a separate kitchen in a not-too-savory part of Hempstead, NY. From my 6th floor window, I could see my old college dorm just a few miles away. I’d struggled a bit to furnish it with a combination of used and cheap new furniture, none of which I still own. I remembered the excitement of those days, of starting a new life away from home and school, of earning a living for myself. Every day was an adventure or challenge. I seldom had more than $20 in my pocket and liked to hold onto it as long as I could.

So when she handed me the $40, I told her to keep it.

She was surprised and asked if I was sure. I told her I was and that it was my housewarming gift to her. I told her that when she was ready to replace it, maybe she could sell it for $100 and put that towards the new set.

Her dad loaded the table into the truck and I carried over one of the chairs while she took the other one. They slipped it inside and closed the cap on the truck. We chatted for a while about the winery down the street and I urged them to come back there for a tasting one weekend. And then I shook her hand and wished her good luck.

Gotta pay it forward.

The funniest thing to me about the whole exchange? None of them so much as mentioned the elephant in the room: the helicopter parked in my garage.

Cheat Codes for the Game of Life

One of the best things I’ve read online in a very long time.

I normally wake up very early — think pre-dawn — and start my day lounging in bed. After checking the day’s weather and any text messages that might have come in overnight, I head over to Twitter to see what’s going on.

Most of the folks I follow tweet about politics and I have to admit that I’m getting very tired of it. We generally agree on things, but reading about Trump’s conflicts of interest or golf outings or outrageous tweets gets old after a while. That might explain why I limit my Twitter time to early mornings, late evenings, and the occasional break in the middle of the day.

But this morning there was a treat in my Twitter newsfeed: a link to an article by Mark Manson. Eager to read anything that wasn’t related to the GOP’s attempt to deny healthcare to millions of Americans or the insanity of yet another presidential election with a right-wing nut job on the ballot, I clicked and read.

I don’t know who Mark Manson is, although his blog identifies him as ” Author. Thinker. Life Enthusiast.” Sounds like a guy I’d really like. Apparently he’s written a lot about psychology and life in general. At the end of the article was a link to sign up for a newsletter and get an ebook; I might do that. Why? Well because the article I read was so well written, wise, and completely on point.

I don’t want to rehash what he wrote here. I want to urge you to read it for yourself. It’ll take you about 15 minutes and it isn’t the least bit dull. In fact, it’s a somewhat fun read, written with a sense of humor that I can really appreciate.

I will give you a teaser, though. There are two things I took away from this that I hadn’t thought of before:

  • Five levels to the game of life. This reminds me a lot of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, which I mentioned in this blog post from 2016 about making things happen for yourself. In fact, when you finish Mark’s post, you might want to come back and read what I wrote there.
  • Solutions vs. Distractions. All I have to say about this is wow. Mark is 100% right about this; why didn’t I see it that way? This has the potential to be life changing for me — and it might be for you, too.

The one thing he did discuss at some length that I already know very well is how you are responsible for yourself.

If there’s one thing I detest is how some people complain about stuff they can control and blame their problems on others. For 29 years, I lived with a man who never admitted (or apologized for) his mistakes or took responsibility for his failures. All he did was blame others. And the older he got, the more blame he threw around. He was his own worst enemy. By the time we parted ways, he was an angry old man, blaming me for his dead-end life when he had plenty of opportunities to make his life better. It’s been nearly five years and he’s probably still blaming me for everything that went wrong with his life. I can’t help but feel sorry for him.

Unfortunately, there are many people just like him. People who hold themselves back in the game of life because they refuse to take responsibility for their own situation. They point fingers at everyone except themselves. They somehow expect the people they blame to stop their own lives and fix theirs.

Of course, that doesn’t usually happen because it isn’t usually possible.

Seriously, you need to read this. Even if you’re on top of your game, you will learn something from it. Better yet, you’ll realize, like I did, that it’s a great piece for anyone who might be floundering on Level 3 — or one of the lower levels. Something you’ll want to share on Twitter or your Facebook feed to make someone else’s life better.

After all, isn’t it better to share something that can actually help people than the same old angry and hateful political crap circulating around?

Go read it now.