The identitarian race hustlers in this nation are having a wonderful season. On top of their usual hatred of all things Anglo-Saxon, now they get to enjoy themselves with the secretly loathed white liberals embroiled in blackface scandals. On the sexual harassment thing? Well, not so fast. Just like it was instructive to watch their gyrations between alleged homophobia and islamophobia when a Muslim shot up that disco of diversity in Orlando, it is further enlightening to watch their gymnastics over the current Lt. Gov. of Virginia, who is both black and an accused rapist.
By the way, out of three he’ll be the first to go.
They want a Chinese menu of offense, a little rape here, a little classic race hustling there, all ala carte. But sadly for them, his accuser is black and, as opposed to Dr. Ford, seems quite coherent. So, protect the almost guv or believe all women, as the textbook says? Ah, decisions, decisions.
The Chinese menu analogy even stretches to the literal, as celeb chef and amusing bloke Gordon Ramsey is coming under fire from the hive for daring to open in Mayfair, London, what he terms an “authentic Asian” restaurant this summer, replacing his old place, Maze. Maze is closing in about a week. The name of the new joint? “Lucky Cat.” No, I didn’t make that up to pleasure my horrid sense of dark humor. He’s naming an Asian restaurant with a cat reference, not caring about the problematic branding aspect and/or sophomoric jokes from snickering clods like me whose idea of a proper Asian dish is something like this.
It’s going to be, according to Gordo himself, “…inspired by the drinking dens of 1930s Tokyo and the Far East.” Well then. Personally, I think the world could use more geisha-available covert opium parlors where one can get weapons-grade sake while chatting with a drunk Japanese general about Bushido and the war in China.
But that’s just me.
The Asian branch of the buzzing hive of race guilt, and of course their pet guilty occidentals, are chiming in with the expected chorus of how can a Caucasian open an “authentic” Asian restaurant. One opined, “…how are you gonna open an ‘authentic’ asian (sic) restaurant without an ASIAN CHEF?” The upper case emphasis is that of a Twitter user named Vivienne.
Well, Viv, it may come as some surprise to you, but culinary mastery, or any expertise for that matter, is not limited by pigment or race. In ancient and long-ago days when huge reptiles roamed the savannahs searching for prey, to you the 1980s, that kind of attitude was considered quite bigoted. It would have supposed black chefs could not cook a decent French meal and white people couldn’t make decent barbeque. Okay, point taken on the latter issue.
But we’ve since then oh-so-progressively moved to the era of cultural appropriation and the diversity scam. It promulgates the notion that if you are Caucasian, regardless of the centuries of social and technological advances you’ve brought in your wake, you are a malady to be avoided.
If, on the other hand, you are of a protected class, which seems to be anything but white male, then any manner of idiocy or turpitude will be tolerated as long as you play the race card in rationalizing it. Now, I don’t mean that the protected classes get off scot-free in everything. That’s a silly analysis. However, if you’re in a pseudo-educated leftist subset of such, your going will be much easier than whitey if you screw the proverbial pooch. Racial diversity above all! Diversity of thought, free minds? Nahhhhh.
If you’re in the Right Pigment Club (as defined by the Left), as I am by birth, then certain things are assumed of you. My life has been filled with joyous opportunities to give those who held such assumptions a swift kick in the ideological pants.
As such, when I taught college sociology several years ago, initially some of my students, as they later admitted under severe physical torture (kidding, geez! kidding), thought they’d get over on me and merely academically serve up PC pabulum to get a good grade. My first class period I told them this, “Don’t let the well-tanned carapace fool you. Because of my rampant Anglophilia, I am the whitest person you will ever meet. The heart and soul of one of the less likable Dukes of Marlborough beats under this mahogany exterior. If you count on otherwise, woe be unto you.”
Maybe I wasn’t that eloquent every time, but they got the drift. Some of them were gone by the next class. Others remained and were edified, realizing that even a part-Latin, Indian (the elective neurosurgery South American kind. Not the savages who murdered Custer), and African sociology prof can teach the subject in a non-exclusively Latin, Indian, and African environment. Yeah, even a bloke can brilliantly cook Asian grub.
The whole charge of cultural appropriation is part of the larger diversity scam, judging individuals by factors they did not choose and had nothing to do with. Sure, it would have been neato to have been born a member of the abovementioned noble house, not in a Staten Island orphanage. But guess what? In this America, even still, by my own powers I can rise to a level of achievement unknown by my recent ancestors. At least the really poor and non-functional alcoholic ancestors.
The proponents of the diversity scam want extra points, a rigged game, because they think they won the race hustlers birth lottery and can now lord it over others based on long passed travesties and injustices. Only by the acquiescence of those of us, as with most people all over the planet since time immemorial, whose own ancestry was not born to the purple, will they triumph. The time for letting it go, chalking up the mirrored bigotry to the quest for equality, is over.
The time for fighting back for all who want a fair game is upon us.
