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Political Correctness | Live it Bad Ass

Political Correctness is Making us Thin Skinned

“Political correctness is America’s newest form of intolerance, and it is especially pernicious because it comes disguised as tolerance. It presents itself as fairness, yet attempts to restrict and control people’s language with strict codes and rigid rules. I’m not sure that’s the way to fight discrimination. I’m not sure silencing people or forcing them to alter their speech is the best method for solving problems that go much deeper than speech.” George Carlin

To further expand on this idea, I will use morbid obesity as an example.

There are things about the morbidly obese I find perplexing. Do they shit way more often, filling toilets to the brim? Or do they shit way less because all the food they consume is stored as fat? I am not talking about standard grade fat, where the human anatomy is still in its recognizable form. Something happens at a certain level of fat, where massive blobs begin to create new body parts altogether. What do you call the round fat ball that makes an obese man’s penis disappear from his line of sight? Or the rolls that hang over the sides of his belt line? Or the phenomenon of the belly fat splitting into two separate, yet equally disgusting pieces that hang over the front of the belt line?

Why do we call them fat asses when the fattest people seem to have a Hank Hill pancake in lieu of glutes? Wouldn’t flat ass be more accurate? This is not to disparage the Tub-A-Lubs, only to probe deeper into their mystery.

Does your penis have to be really long to have sex with a 400 pound women? Is breathing as painful and laborious as you make it appear? What is the simplest activity that has ever caused you to sweat? What are bed sores like?

Unfortunately, we will never know. Everybody and every body is beautiful, so how dare we wonder? And I actually agree. Look at what happens to domesticated cats who grow to twenty plus pounds. They’re still adorable, albeit in more of an interesting way. We simply have to redefine beauty, and ensure it isn’t equated with the idea of desirability. Existence itself is a miracle, so how can we tell any being that it isn’t beautiful and divine?

People from countries lacking an obesity epidemic visit Disney World here in America, and are more amazed by the sheer size of our largest citizens than the attractions at the theme park. Who can forget the scene in Gilbert Grape when mama is photographed by passers by? They knew it was messed up, but when would they have another opportunity to snap a pic of an oxygen breathing land whale?

We are, always have been, and always will be drawn toward oddities and abnormalities. Our obsession with novelty drives us forward, saving us from the stagnation of pure routine. In the case of something as unhealthy as morbid obesity, it will always inspire within us a morbid reaction.

“Holy sideshow Batman! Look how big her front ass is!” Robin says. He isn’t being mean, just honest and human.

Instead of trying to convince the citizenry that a walking weight of 450 pounds is normal, and that we should be physically attracted to it, let it normalize itself over time. That seems to be the trend anyway. Don’t feel guilty when you reflexively double take at a man with four clearly defined hotdog fat rolls growing on the back of his neck.

And of course don’t be mean to him. There’s a lot that goes into an individual human’s behavior. Being so fat that you are risking your life isn’t a blast, and they have probably at least attempted to change it at some point. They’re certainly aware of it. Genetics play a huge role in this particular example, much like any other disorder or personal flaw. Some people literally cannot get fat, while others lose 100 pounds and quickly gain it back. Different engines. The same way some are prone to alcoholism, anger, or laziness. Or drug addiction, depression, and suicidal thoughts. We’re each missing our own pieces of the puzzle. That’s why compassion is the easy part. Of course I feel bad for the fat guy.

But don’t you tell me to suppress being human for someone’s feelings. I’m not that sensitive, nor should anyone be. Human imperfections are building blocks for funny, and we connect through laughter. Fuck me if I don’t make some sort of joke about it, and fuck him if he doesn’t counter by saying something about my Dumbo ears.

We need to police the political correctness police. These passionless, monotone defenders of the status quo are out of control. The modern social justice warrior. Has it really gotten to the point where fat jokes aren’t okay? What’s next? Knock knock and yo mama jokes?

The point is, if we want to celebrate differences and diversity, we can’t pull it off by pretending everyone’s the same. If we want to celebrate free speech, we can’t pull it off by squelching debate and censoring public conversation. So thicken up the skin, and let’s all dance together naked in the muddy rain. You too fatty.

Just say no to political correctness!

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