Don't You Cancel My Culture!
Cancel Culture: A particularly loathsome new term in the exceptionally loathsome "New Normal."
I hate everything about Cancel Culture. But it was my husband, Michael, who helped me see the humorous side of Cancel Culture a few weeks ago. Let me set the stage for you.
Michael, as usual, was hinting, cajoling and wheedling me into deep frying his beloved French Fries.
And, as usual, every time he said "French Fries" I could hear his left ventricle slamming shut.
"Michael Honey," I said sweetly, "We don't deep fry. We air fry."
Without missing a beat Michael snapped back, "DON'T YOU CANCEL MY CULTURE!!!"
Just like that, I was ROTFLMAO!
But in five pithy words, he nailed how we all feel.
I like my culture. I like history as I learned it as a child. I like science as I understand it. I like America as I cherish her. I like my race. I like our culture. I like our cuisine. I like our language. I like our literature. I like Classical music. I like our architecture. I love President Trump and our Constitution. I like, oh! Just everything we've been shamed, gaslighted and brainwashed to reject, disbelieve and apologize for.
Well, screw dat!
I'm not having some atheistic faux intellectual Liberal nut job destroy Life as I know and like it with their New Version of "Truth" that Cancels my Culture. Two weeks later, like Fauci, they'll change it again anyways.
I'm with Michael: "DON'T YOU CANCEL MY CULTURE!"
This is my rant.
Don't Touch my History!
In Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Jean Arthur muses that perhaps idealistic, whimsical, romantic, patriotic Jimmy Stewart might have "the jump on all of us...maybe it's a curse to go through life wised up."
I like the whimsically patriotic gloss-over-gritty-details version of American history I learned as a kid. Great tales of our heroic, wise, Mensa-level Founding Fathers who penned the best Declaration of Independence, the best Constitution, the best letters, the best quotes while performing courageous acts to give us the best stories that still inspire our fight to return to their 250-year old vision and version of America.
Then along comes some wise guy who confidently informs me they didn't say that, they didn't do that. In fact they were drunken, debauched, philanderers who did not believe in God.
Well, screw dat!
These are the same yahoos who told me to mask, not to mask, to mask, to double mask, not to mask. Yeah, they don't exactly inspire confidence!
Don't Touch my Vittles
What's the one thing food travelers like Andrew Zimmern and Anthony Bourdain have taught us?
If you want to understand and respect a particular culture/race, share a meal with them. Eat with gusto and gratefully accept seconds. A laugh, a smile and a shared meal break down all the boundaries between people of different races, religions and cultures.
When you eat their food, they feel respected. When you savor, enjoy and gush over it, they swell with pride. When you hug and kiss them in gratitude (as Zimmern always did), they blush very prettily.
The love of great food brings people together. But the fomenters of Racial Division don't want that! So what do they do!?! Do they attack Chinese, French, Swedish, Guatemalan, Hungarian, Irish, Finnish cuisines!?
No! That would be racist!
There's only one, just one, cuisine that is attacked, vilified and shamed. One cuisine that's been screwed with for so many decades, it's completely FUBAR: gutted of everything that made it so delicious, it's basic ingredients swapped with tasteless, unhealthy, man-made faux replacements.
That cuisine is, of course, American cuisine, particularly the one passed down from the European immigrants to America. The butter, the sugar, the meat, the cheese, the frying, everything that makes Euro-American food delicious has been under attack since Dr. Ancel Keys singled out the Mediterranean diet as the only acceptable, healthy diet.
As it turns out, Keys was the Fauci of his day. His science was as bad as, well, he was. Keys was an atheist who tortured American conscientious objectors during WWII with his Minnesota Starvation Study. It was World War II ending that prevented Dr. Keys from starving those Men of Faith to death, bringing the Starvation Study to a premature close.
The Mediterranean Diet is all fine and good if you live on the frickin' Mediterranean but I have news for you: Most people in the world don't. And I'm sick to death of feeling guilty for eating Scandihoovian food. That's like shaming Japanese for eating sushi, shaming the Chinese for eating rice or shaming the French for eating cheese...and forcing them all to import expensive Mediterranean food. It just doesn't make sense. Didn't God instruct St. Peter not to call any food unclean that He has made!?! (Acts 10)
Here's a dirty little secret: Every single culture fries their food in vats of hot fat. Every. Single. One including the über-healthy Japanese (tempura).
Every culture sweetens their food and enjoys desserts. Every. Single. One.
Every culture enjoys milk, cheese, starches...all the ingredients only Americans are shamed for eating. (Or are they merely gaslighting us to distract from their GMO destruction of previously healthy ingredients!)
Well, screw dat!
By cancelling the food of a certain culture, it's like sowing flesh eating bacteria in their psyche. Every bite is received with shame and guilt, not with delight and gratitude to God.
Worst of all, you destroy the best way for a particular ethnic group to interact with other ethnic groups: sharing a meal.
The walls between races simply don't exist when you share a smile, a laugh and a meal prepared with love. Destroy a particular peoples' cuisine and you've destroyed their culture, their families, their self-esteem, their joy, their way of communicating with each other and connecting with other cultures.
So gimme my milk, my wheat flour, my sugar, my fats for frying and all that tasty delicious animal protein. If it was good enough for my Scandinavian ancestors who lived extraordinarily long lives, it's good enough for me.
He's Chinese Too
In the delightfully eccentric English movie Lost for Words, Dame Thora Hird makes the cutest statement about the Chinese owners of her local Chinese takeaway: "I've met them," she tells her son played by Peter Postelthwaite. "They're very nice. They have a little baby."
There's a pause and then almost as an afterthought she adds, "He's Chinese too." And I was ROTFLMAO.
To her eccentric mind, somehow she assumed that after moving to England, their baby would be born White. It was an adorable, hilarious moment in an adorable, eccentric movie. (Best quote: "I've put the key in the lock so you can find it.")
Before the Fomenters of Racial Strife came for White Folks, I'd never given my race a moment's thought. Didn't even crack the top ten. Why would it!?! All my relatives are whiter than marshmallow fluff so...surprise! surprise!...their babies turned out whiter than marshmallow fluff too. We never thought about it. We never talked about it amongst ourselves. Not once. Just slathered on the sunscreen.
Suddenly, these Nasty Fomenters are trying to make our race AN ISSUE.
Well, screw dat!
Whatever happened to being color blind?
Every morning when 7 billion people brush their teeth and wash their faces, the face looking back at them in the mirror is normal. Just normal. Thoughts about their skin color (or lack thereof) doesn't crack the top ten for 99.9999% of them either, I'll wager. We're too busy thinking, "What do I have to do today?".
Every day when thousands of Japanese cross the road in the famous Shibuya Scramble, are they thinking, "Look at all these Japanese!"
No! They're simply thinking, "Look at all these people."
It's a small, silly normal thing to point out but it's also profound. We all look perfectly normal to ourselves whether we're "red and yellow, black and white." We only look special and interesting and fascinating to each other!
The awesome thing about different races is the richness it brings to life! My mother always said, "God loves variety" and she's so right!
If I go to a Chinese restaurant, I damn well don't want a hamburger and they know it. If I go out for pho, I damn well don't want it made by a Swede. They may've learned to make awesome pho but I want my pho made by a Vietnamese chef. Y'know what I mean!?
Your own race isn't particular interesting to you. It's just normal. That's as it should be or we'd all be horribly vain and pompous.
It takes someone from another race to really cherish your race because it's so new and interesting to them. That's what makes the Festival of Nations in St. Paul such fun!
Cancel and shame any race into invisibility and you cheat yourself of the richness they bring into your life. Yes! Including those of us who are whiter than marshmallow fluff. We may be pale but we brought you lutefisk! No, no, don't applaud. Just throw money. LOL
And Then They Came For Urie
Luckily Cancel Culture has one glaring weakness: You must be perfect or it'll come back to bite you on the bum.
I remember last year how upset my step-daughter was when J. K. Rowling made her transgender comments.
But it was a different story when Cancel Culture came for Caitlin's beloved Illuminati, Occult Brendon Urie whose Panic At the Disco emo band logo she had tattooed on her arm. Then she was "so over" Cancel Culture.
And rightly so.
Cancel Culture is untenable because no one is perfect. Sooner or later it'll cancel people you like. It cancelled Tchaikovsky. (What symphonies did his untimely demise rob from us!?!) Cancel Culture may even cancel you when your skeleton-in-the-closet is revealed.
The only defense when that happens is hypocrisy. "Rules for thee but not for me."
Yeah, it just doesn't work!
Well, screw dat!
What Is Life Without Whimsy (or Wimsey, if you prefer)?
As this rant winds down, I'm so tired of all the experts trying to wise me up. Why's it so damn important to them to remove all the whimsy, romance, idealism and patriotism from my life!?!
They must be Democrats. I read somewhere that Dems take all the fun out of everything. They're not happy until you're as miserable as they are! LOL
Here's my final pet peeve and then I promise to shut up: If I want to believe that our little feathery friends sing to Glorify their Great Creator for giving them the joy of flying...leave it alone!
If I believe that robins are singing Vespers at dusk...leave it alone!
I do not want to hear some dry "scientist" droning on and on about how a "study" has proven that birds sing for purely utilitarian reasons: attracting a mate or defending their turf. Nothing more.
Well, screw dat!
Take your grubby paws off my whimsy (or Wimsey, if you prefer and I do) and my anthropomorphized animals. If it was good enough for C. S. Lewis, Kenneth Grahame and Thornton Burgess, it's good enough for me.
And while were on the subject, take your grubby paws off my history and my patriotism. Take your grubby paws off my race, my culture, my language, my art, my architecture, my literature, my music and especially my cuisine. And leave Dr. Suess alone too!
Pack up your Racism, your Reverse Racism, your Critical Racist Theory (or whatever it's called), your 1619 Whatsit and your Cancel Culture Thingummy and shove 'em. As they say in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, "Time's up. Had your chance. Muffed it."
Society gave Cancel Culture the ol' community college try. It doesn't work. In fact, it stinks. Sheesh. Give it a rest already.
Whew! That rant's been building up for six months, at least. I feel so much better now! Rant over. Gotta run. I've got French Fries to deep fry for Michael. I can't bear to cancel his culture!
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