PC
My own inherent sense of political correctness prevented me from laughing at this product I stumbled across this morning.

www.spazzstick.com/
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:46, 4 replies)

Inclusion
I imagine schools could feature quite heavily in this QOTW.....

My daughter attends our local Primary school, roll just under 300, and it has to be said the vast majority of pupils are white and nominally Christian. Nonetheless, all the major religious festivals are celebrated, and the kids really enjoy it. They learn about other cultures and have a bit of fun while doing it. All good so far.

There's no nonsense about Winterval instead of Christmas, all the kids take part in the Nativity play if they want to (and so far no kids or parents have objected) and the entire school recently attended the local church for the Harvest Festival.

So where is this going?

Every March, the children work for a couple of days on Mother's Day cards and (teacher depending) a wee gift of some sort. So what, you think.

Come June, Father's Day is completely ignored! In case one of the kids whose daddy isn't around is hurt or feels left out. Now judging by parents night attendances, the vast majority of these kids come from two parent families (or at least the absent parent has hung around and shows up for these things). My daughter's class has 23 pupils and I know that every last one has a dad (or father figure) in their lives. But they still don't do cards, far less wee arty-type gifts.

If they ignored both days, fair enough. There is at least one child in the school whose mother has done a runner, and at least one whose mother has died. There may even be more than that. But they still make Mother's Day cards.

None of the current teachers (I have asked) can explain this. The longer-serving teachers remember when they used to do cards for mums and dads but can't recall when it stopped - only that it was a PC influenced decision (what else!).

Now I'm a mum so I get my card - but poor old Mr Witch gets nowt. Except for very hot under the collar every year when another June goes by with no sign of a creased, badly folded, still sticky with glue and glitter (but lovingly hand-made!) acknowledgement of his role in producing his kids. Bitter? Not him!

He does get a card of course - the kids just make it at home. And he gets a pressie, too! And yet, every Father's Day, I brace myself for the now traditional rant on the subject of Primary schools and PC gone-mad!
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:43, 4 replies)

Typo of doom

A few years ago, when I was about six months into a new job, I was participating in a presentation remotely. We’d been commissioned by a rather large educational company to create a web site that allowed children to play games against each other. This is fairly common these days but at the time it wasn’t so much.

It was early in the development stage, and we’d knocked together a 2D beat-em-up, mortal kombat style game. The kids could simply fight against each other using the arrow keys and space bar to punch etc. It was both graphically and technically simple, but had been a bit of a mare to put it together.

Through the design phase the client had specified that they would prefer one character to be of a ‘Caucasian’ origin and the other of an ‘African American’ origin, in order to appeal to the various minority groups and appear welcoming. The intention was to have a variety of characters upon completion, but if the client wanted it for the prototype; who are we to argue? We settled upon a stocky, punkish sort of fellow with a green Mohawk, and as the other character a tall, black gangster kind of dude.

We’d also inserted a chat screen below the main action, where the two kids fighting could communicate with each other, just for banter etc.

All was going well with the presentation, and my boss, on-site with the client, was talking them through it before allowing one of the big honchos to play a little game against myself, whom was safely nestled back in our office, hundreds of miles away.

We began and I noticed the movements of the client’s character were a bit erratic, and I initially assumed it may have been a lag issue, until I recognized he kept moving away from me. So obviously I figured he was confused which character was his, so I attempted to help using the chat screen, and sending the following helpful message.

“I’m the punk, you’re the bigger guy”.

Except, during the creation of the peripheral device known as the keyboard, some intelligent bigot had decided to place the B key right next to the N key.

My quick follow up of…

*bigger

…convinced no one that I wasn’t a racist. :(

I can only imagine what my boss’s face must have looked like…
( Regger, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:40, Reply)

I believe the children are our future...
Somebody I know (rather well) used to be a Nursery Nurse in Coventry, looking after about 30 kids from ages 0-4 (and doing a brilliant job of it, with the skill, care, and superhuman patience that I am constantly in awe of). One day a couple of years ago, she and her colleagues were called into a meeting to explain the ‘new (PC) policy’.

Now obviously I wasn’t there, but if you’ll forgive me a certain artistic licence, I will try to convey as best I can what I gathered transpired from the conversation:

PC Nazi (PCN): “It has been decided that with immediate effect that you are all no longer allowed to use the words ‘bad’ or ‘naughty’ when speaking to the children. You are no longer allowed to frown, raise your voices or speak in a strained tone towards the children.”
Various Nursery Nurses (NN) (collectively): “WTF???”
PCN: “Those words might have a negative effect on their development”
NN1 “What are we supposed to say when they’re…..well…..naughty and bad?”
PCN: “You are only allowed to say ‘Your behaviour is making me sad’. And you must SMILE whilst saying this comment”
NN2: “What if one of them chucks his dinner across the room?”
PCN: “You smile and say ‘Your behaviour is making me sad’”
NN2: “What if one of them throws a massive strop and holds their breath until they turn blue?”
PCN: “You smile and say ‘Your behaviour is making me sad’”
NN1: “Do you seriously believe kids will listen to that wank?”
PCN: “The children’s development is of the utmost importance”
NN3: “What if one of them twats another one with a bat?”
PCN:“You smile and say ‘Your behaviour is making me sad’”
NN3: “Can I take the bat off them?”
PCN: “erm…..no.”
NN (collectively): “Jesus”

As you can imagine…utter pandemonium reigned supreme.

When told this story I asked her: “How did you deal with the anger that must have been burning inside you, the rage and frustration at your helplessness towards the kid’s total anarchy?”

“Oh it’s easy”, she replied “I just piss in their milk”.*

*Previous line is a lie - she actually said that it did her head in and only took about a week before they collectively decided that the policy was bollocks and knocked it on the head.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:39, 5 replies)

Monkeyboy
My 8 year old son attends a school with a pretty good mix of cultures. Last year he was reported to the PTA and the local government for a racially offensive remark. I had to attend an interview with the headmaster, fill out forms and accept that this was going onto his record at school.

What horrors had issued from his cherubic lips?

Well, while playing with one of his (many) black friends, the game changed from football to "At the Zoo". My son was an elephant, his friend was a monkey; said friend stuck his ears out and said "I'm a baboon". My son laughed, pointed and repeated "You are! monkeyboy!"

A "midday supervisor" (they were dinner ladies in my day) saw this and reported it.

I'd just like to repeat. He is 8 years old and now terrified of making an inappropriate remark.
( my_cat_has_no_shoes meh meh meh MEH MEH, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:35, 3 replies)

I took this down, but Glen Moranjie noticed - so I'm puttin' it back.
So, just for you, Glen, here's an underwhelming cat story.

Cycling home a while ago, I had to cross a roundabout. Sitting by the junction ahead of me was a cat; the road, though suburban, was busy, and I just had feeling that he was going to dash out in front of a car. I was right; he did. There was a thud there was blood.

Fortunately, another motorist noticed what happened and offered to take the cat to a nearby vet to be put down. I happened to see this other motorist later, and asked her what happened. The cat, it turned out, had a broken bone, but would be fine. She told me the vet she had chosen.

Next day, then, I rang to see how the cat was - only to be told that I was not allowed to know this "for reasons of confidentiality".

Huh?

I thought about explaining why medical confidentiality was important FOR PERSONS and that cats are not persons; I thought about explaining that I didn't want to know whose cat it was or any details like that. I just wanted to know whether a cat was OK. But I thought better of it. There'd have been no point.

Oh, God. I've even bored myself.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:34, 2 replies)

Sainsbury's...
... no longer put out "staff announcements" over the tannoy: they're now "colleague announcements". Presumably they're supposed to be more inclusive.

But they ain't. They're silly.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:30, 2 replies)

Not me but my mum
My mum has been teaching in the same local education authority for over thirty years. This particular London borough has a rather special reputation for political correctness gone mad. Its name begins with B, which is often preceded by the word "Barmy" for the following reasons:

Teachers are not allowed to talk about black and white coffee. It has to be with or without milk.

Schools are not allowed to use black bin bags.

Teachers are not allowed to say the word "blackboard".

No singing "Baa Baa Black Sheep". It's racist.*

No nativity plays except in faith schools. But Diwali, Eid and Hannukah? Bring it on!

Blatant positive discrimination, such as promoting grossly underqualified black disabled lesbians to headships.

That really is political correctness gone mad. It's enough to make you wish you were black so that you could get all pissy at the patronising tokenism of it all.

*I told a black friend about this and he pointed out that it was actually a very PC song seeing as it's all about fair trade.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:28, 6 replies)

Crossing the border.
A few years ago, I was travelling in East Africa, and was in a queue of white tourists waiting to have our passports stamped to get into Zambia from Zimbabwe.

While we were waiting, a busload of American tourists turned up, all of whom were black, and all of whom forced their way to the front of the queue. Complaints followed, and were met with the rejoinder, "Hey, you're in our land now! You can't treat us like slaves!"

The Zambian border guard looked at us apologetically. I'm assuming that that's not the first time something similar had happened. And I'd wager that, while stamping their visas, he was thinking "Now I know why my great-grandparents were so keen to sell yours to theirs." Possibly.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:25, 1 reply)

"Belm"
I used to be in the Air Cadets.

Dead keen I went along to a drill hall in Henley-on-Thames twice a week and pretended to be Biggles.

The powers-that-be decided that we needed a little local publicity, so they invited the Henley Standard along to take pictures and write an article on the joys of joining the Spacers.

For some reason, the bloke took a lot of pictures of me pratting about with some old RAF equipment, and went away well pleased.

Come the following Friday, a freshly-printed Standard walloped onto our doormat, and my brother and I raced to see what they'd written about us.

On the front page was the heart-lifting story of a severely disabled lad who had just received a brand new electric wheelchair from a local charity. There he was, in his chair, sporting his protective headgear, a wonky smile all over his face.

On page three, there was Cadet Corporal S Duck striking exactly the same pose in an ex-RAF Canberra bomber ejector seat and a WWII vintage flying helmet. I was - quite literally - lost for words.

"Muh!" I finally managed.

"You spacker," said my dad, a sentiment echoed by just about everybody I met for the next month or so.

The following Friday's Henley Standard letter page was given over exclusively to letters from disgusted readers.

Never ask for fame.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:23, Reply)

my friend essex
so-called because she is from essex, is very like rachel from friends in that she gets herself into dizzy situations all the time. she looks like her too, the bitch. anyway, for a very bright girl (she was a solicitor, now she's a law lecturer), she can be really thick sometimes.

so far her university has sent her on 3 lots of political correctness training. the first was for exclaiming in delight when one of her male colleagues turned up to the christmas do dressed as a woman. essex complimented him on getting into the spirit of things.

despite being nearly 7 feet tall and 17 stone, he was in fact a pre-op transexual. he complained.

the second one was a japanese girl who reported her for being racist because she answered an english girl's question first. this is the same japanese girl who, when drafting a licence to use a field for a fete, defined "marquee" as "tent or any other erection designed solely for the use of pleasure".

the third one was because she described a former client of hers as a "big fat arab". and then compounded her error by saying, "what? he was big, he was fat and he was arabic..."

so she was given the option of disciplinaries or political correctness training. taking the latter, obviously, off she trotted to a class where they were made to write down all the cliches they could think of under headings like "jewish", "yorkshireman", "woman", "ginger" etc. she said the worst thing was that, as they all looked at them, all they could think was, "yeah, and? how true!"

on the other hand, when i was doing my own law degree there, on more than one occasion i heard asian girls asking each other if they had "remembered to play the race card" in interviews. this stinks. get the job because you're good at it, not because you're male, female, tall, short, one legged, gay, pregnant or sky blue pink with yellow dots all over you!

and breathe...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:16, 11 replies)

The Balance
Has anyone noticed this behaviour quirk too?

Background: I'm gay. Queer. A faggot. I like the cock, etc. And I'm quite fine with queer jokes, even the most tasteless ones.

But the second that anyone who I've not known for ages finds out I'm gay... it's like their sense of humour disappears into a black hole, never to emerge into the light of day once more. They become terrified of making even the slightest pun that might involve homosexuality in some way, in case I get really upset at them. It's really quite amusing just watching the sudden change in a joke telling session, or watching a budding pub comedian stuttering into his pint.

But, the second *I* tell a single gay joke (one of my favourite ones is "How do you increase the seating capacity of a gay pub by a factor of four? Turn the stools upside down."), the balance is restored. The sense of humour emerges, and those around me will happily tell any joke at all, from the most innocent to the most tasteless.

It seems to apply to race, sex and age as well. Friend of mine (lovely indian girl) notices this one too - the second she tells a slightly racist joke about indians, everyone's sense of humour is unlocked, and no joke is forbidden. Same if she makes a sexist joke about women. Telling one about men isn't quite as effective - it's more like a transaction that way. One joke about men from her can be followed by one joke about women from one other person.

The only mainstream targets that people seem to be able to tell jokes about to their faces are christians and fat people :)
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:12, 7 replies)

B3ta VS The Mail on Sunday
Seeing as it's Daily Mail week on B3ta, here's a little story from the secret history of this site.

About three years ago a journalist got in touch and asked to use an image from the board to help illustrate the story - I passed on the details to the boarder and it all was fine.

The jouno is very pleased about how this goes and gets in touch to suggest we sort out something regular.

This turns out to be a journalist at The Mail on Sunday. I figure, why not? The boarders whose work gets selected aren't going to turn down the £100 are they? Well, if they do, it's their choice.

Anyway, B3ta getting pics into the heart of The Mail? It's just funny. And sure to go wrong.

We don't mention this on the front page as "B3ta do deal with the Daily Mail" isn't really a story we want doing the rounds, anyway we hadn't - we'd just said we'd informally pass on contact details if they wanted to get the rights to use something, like we would with anyone who got in touch.

So the first pic goes in. And guess what happens?

A random boarder notices, ignores that the image is credited, doesn't bother contacting me or actual owner of the image, they just post on the board that The Mail is stealing board pics. The board then digs out the journalists email address and sticks that on the board too.

So the first I hear of it is the journalist complaining that he's recieved 50 or 60 personal emails calling him a rapist, scum sucking whore bitch, and a theif.

So of course, the one time a news organisation attempts to play it right by B3ta they get a shit load of personal abuse and gives up.

Way to go B3tans!
( rob, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 14:06, 5 replies)

Funny this topic has come up as I was watching this clip of Stuart Lee talking about the subject on Youtube earlier.
I know this isn't the links board, but I think it's certainly worth watching.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IYx4Bc6_eE
( Zuowan, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:58, 2 replies)

PC is great
Non-political correctness is like an illiterate midget:

It's not big and it's not clever.
( The Helpful Bear, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:55, Reply)

Speed Dating
I'm sure I've written about this before, but as it fits in with the current Qotw...here is is again.





Anyway, a while ago in the pursuit of fun and adventure I was persuaded by my best friend Jo to have a crack at Speed Dating.


So there I was looking reasonably glamorous and above all, eager, sitting at a table in the window of a bar waiting for my first victim, erm, no, date and Jo was at the table next to me looking stunning.

Jo jokingly says to me, wouldn’t it be funny if your ex was to walk past on his way to the cash point. Ha ha I say. And then Jo went white…..he DID walk past...Twice. Jo and I dissolved into embarrassed giggles – I was mortified and wanted to climb under the table – particularly as the organiser was giving her pep talk at the time, she saw us in uncontrollable giggles and asked what was wrong, “Her ex husband has just walked past!” shouts out Jo cheerfully. Thanks.

Well it did effectively break the ice and I don’t think that Jo and I were as nervous after that, well, not nervous of our ‘dates’, I was slightly nervous that my ex would come in and ask me if I had taken leave of my senses, or worse, stand outside point at my 3 minute victim and laugh….


So, the Dates. 17 men all supposedly within the ages of 30-40, were they? Maybe one or two was actually in his 30s, the rest were at least 45 but more likely nearer to 55 or even 65.

But of course you can't say as the old codger sits down in front of you, "Oi! Grandad, I wouldn't date you, you're too old"

No, instead you make polite conversation for three pained minutes.

Most of the men seemed to be reasonably nice people, some were more charming than others, some more interesting than others. One was more mad than any other man I’ve met before….he had arrived with a mobile phone clamped to his ear and an ordnance survey map flapping out of the waistband of his trousers. He also possessed what I think is the last pair of NHS glasses in existence which is shocking considering we were only a couple of hundreds of yards from SpecSavers. He sat down and mumbled on about the recent earthquake that we experienced down here in Kent. Much of what he said I couldn’t hear but I did make out his general annoyance with local government who apparently contact him every time there is a natural disaster – the earthquake, a hurricane (this happened last month according to him, I missed it myself) – they contact him, ask for his ‘expert’ knowledge (on what I have no idea) and then they don’t even offer him payment or a permanent job. I made all the right noises and nodded encouragingly. He was clearly impressed by this and asked me if I listened to Radio Caroline….I didn’t have the heart to tell him it’s been gone for a long time, so I said I remembered it (that was a lie, I have heard of it, know some of the stories about it being the forerunner to Radio 1 and so on, but it was before my time I think). He then went on to tell me about a Dutch radio station that operates next door to Caroline (erm…wasn’t Radio Caroline on a boat?) he gave me the frequency to tune into and then asked me what my favourite song was….My mind went blank except for two things – James Blunt’s You’re Beautiful – no good, no good at all. Or alternatively someone has been attempting to convert me to Leonard Cohen – now that would send out all the right messages, so Leonard it was. So if I tuned in the following day I could hear a Leonard Cohen song which he would have broadcast just for me. Afterwards I discovered this man had told at least one woman that he finds it very hard to meet women for sex.

But it would have been politically incorrect of me to tell him he was mad, and ugly to boot.

Aside from him I also managed to put my foot in it with a chap who works as a Safety Officer for a Nuclear power station – “You’re Homer Simpson!” I blurted out without giving it a second thought….


Now, back on track...and to answer the question...Political correctness...

I also had a rather pained conversation with an older man who told me he drove a lorry.

I attempted to draw him out and ask which firm – no reply.

So I asked what he carried in his lorry – he told me the firm was based in London and did contract work for the local government.

Oh, says I, that sounds interesting, and then I repeat my question, What do you have in your lorry?

Finally I get a reply – Household Waste Management……Yes dear reader, he was a Bin Man.


The end of the evening saw me with a score card filled with crosses all in the Miss column – maybe some of the men were very nice, but I’d rather stay single than settle. In fact I’d go so far as to say that I’d seriously consider taking up lesbianism as a lifestyle choice if the men there were truly representative of the single men out there.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:53, 6 replies)

It was maybe on here
but I read a story recently about an American visiting the UK who described a local black guy to her kid as an English African-American.

_{Presumably she asked him for directions to Loogabarooga too.}
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:46, 5 replies)

I have recently been subject to a suspension over allegations of 'racial conduct'
I worked with the woman for a month and a half after the alleged incident, no problems between us, nothing mentioned, then for another month after the allegation was made, frosty attitude but still no mention of a problem from her (and I decided it was best not to bring it up at work and muddy the investigation with more accusations against me).
Then out of the blue I was yanked into the office at 7am rather than going for my shift and told that the incident was now 'officially' being investigated and because racist conduct is gross misconduct I was automatically suspended until it was resolved.
I was out of the workplace officially to protect me, but in reality it's basically keeping me away from the other person so they don't have to deal with any grief from me and so I can't gossip (I was also banned from talking to any of my colleagues whilst suspended, a fair few of which are friends!)...which is a little odd given the two and a half months I've already worked with her since the incident, and the fact that I've never uttered a peep about the goings on because I was trying to be fair, yet all the gossip I was hearing filtering back from her. Still, rules are rules and that's how it was done.

In the end I was off for over 7 weeks whilst people were interviewed, I was grilled, more people were interviewed, I was all but called a liar because I'd said that I got on with the woman fine as far as I knew and she obviously had disagreed, reports were sent off, reports were sent back and I was asked to 'clarify' stuff I'd already answered twice...and all about events that were about 3 months in the past and hadn't struck me as particularly memorable even at the time!

Eventually I was cleared and told I could return to work because they had found absolutely no evidence that I had acted in a racist manner, but it was still presented to me as if it was all a learning curve so I could learn from my mistakes.

What did I do? I didn't buy her a drink at a party. When she had purposefully sat herself away from the group and out of line of sight. Oh, and she's African.
No. Seriously. I realise you're going to be assuming there must be more to it than that, but there wasn't, she said that the only person who didn't get a drink was African.

It's now been about two and a half months since I've been back at work and she's still never mentioned it to me. I was promised a meeting with her to sort it out, and in the mean time I decided to just be professional and be polite when I had to be around her, but I recently found out that the company now sees the issue as resolved, and my manager has no intention of getting us to meet in the forseeable future as 'it would be too emotive'. He knows that she gets defensive and shouts lots, and it's a fair point because that's not very productive...but where are the warning signs there?
I got suspended for 7 weeks, suffered with uncertainty emotionally and for my career, was cleared but recieved no(and apparently aren't entitled to an)apology, all because this woman never communicates her problems until it's at bursting stage at which point she over reacts and no-one can deal with her...yet she's never been asked to deal with that or the fact that everytime she's angry at someone outside her clique the racism card gets thrown (this is just the first time it's been taken to disciplinary).

Racism is a fucking sick thing, and I'd be (and often are) the first to point it out as unacceptable, but it's also a political buzzword at the minute.
I suffer racism every day at work but because I'm white it's acceptable. I do my job and refuse to treat anyone differently, I think positive discrimination can be just as harmful, and for my troubles I now face the daily fear that it's only a matter of time before that kind of wild accusation gets held up and I can never work in the care industry again.

It's madness, and I'm not going to be there much longer :)

/take it all
( Jessie © needs pirate name suggestions, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:46, 10 replies)

It makes me want to rip my copy of the Daily Mail in half with rage

A gypsy trespasses on my land, I shoot him in the back and I'm the one arrested?! Political correctness gone mad!

This country's gone to the dogs, filthy illegal immigrant dogs with rabies and tuberculosis.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:46, Reply)

Being a gayer...
...I come into contact with PC-ness a lot. My opinion? FUCK THAT. As long as there's no venom in what a person is saying to me then there's no problem. Oh, only other gayers and very very close friends can call me a faggot though :)

That small reservation aside, I find the extent to which PC-ness has been taken, or rather applying it in discourse, gives off an air of disingenuity and frankly I have more respect for myself and other human beings than to be so nauseatingly fawning, and to be on the receiving end of it can be intensely uncomfortable.

I say again to PC-ness - FUCK THAT - GROW A SPINE AND SAY WHAT YOU MEAN. As long as you don't get offensive, people will respect you more for it - I know I would. It's not about words, it's about attitudes.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:45, 7 replies)

Subway
Dunno if its true. But in Subway the workers are called "sandwich artists". What a loada shit.
( itsthebttower, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:44, 5 replies)

Two (four) words:
Melanin-blessed Vagino-American

WFT?
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:41, Reply)

Xmas PC gone mad
A friend of mine worked in a Muslim school as a music teacher. (I don't know if she still does, so I'm not going to be more specific for obvious reasons.)

One year it was decided by someone that they should have a christmas carol festival. So she, as music teacher, had to go through all the carols rewriting them to take out any specific christian references.

Not as easy as you think.
( Stevedix http://www.stevedix.de/blog, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:38, Reply)

Asylum-seeker training.
I work for my local library, and as part of the city council's equal opportunities policy they insisted that all staff who work with the public must be put through 'asylum-seeker training'. There's something about sitting through an hour and a half of lectures treating asylum seekers as a special case just so we can go back and provide them with the same service as we provide everyone else (just like we were doing before) that I don't quite understand.
(matthyaouw, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:38, 1 reply)

Joe decan
It all started with that spastic and hes to blame uh uh haaa uhh uhh haaa uhh hhh aaa
(mr sheep is down stairs with empty maple syrup jar, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:37, 5 replies)

How has the PC attitude affected me?
Well, to be truthful, it has made me very bitter and angry at the people who decide what is PC and what isn't.

As some have said, getting rid of the obviously un-PC things have made workplaces etc. a bit friendlier. But honestly, shortly before the term PC was coined, did the majority think that racial slurs and discrimination were okay? No.
they went by the looks they received, the P45's they were given, and the beatings they took.
The people who previously thought discrimination was acceptable are not going to be swayed by a new buzzword, or some new pamphlets and paperwork.

I feel the people who live in fear of the PC-fascism are the same people who have never knowingly done or said anything which can be construed as non-PC.
It's the ones who don't give a shit about PC that are the ones who need to be targeted, not the goverment-fearing normal people.
( OneSullenBrit *air sandwiches*, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:37, Reply)

Can't think of a story so have a PC song instead
My parent or legal guardian is a domestic refuse technician,
He or She wears a domestic refuse technicians hat*

He or She wears domestic refuse technician's legwear*
And lives in a Local Authority subsidised tenancy*
**


*References to headwear do not discriminate against those with no head or those with multiple heads, conjoined twins will still be considered for this role.

*Legwear is used to denote protective clothing to the lower body, however it does not imply that applicants for the role require use of legs or indeed possess a lower body.

*Tenancy includes Local Authority housing, affordable housing and Housing association owned properties - Private property owners are not excluded from this role.

**French people or men with rats tail mullet hairstyles need not apply.
( WOLF .™, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:33, 8 replies)

How I suggested to my black students that they should be the slaves of the white students
About a year ago, I was giving a lecture on utilitarianism. Utilitarianism is, in a nutshell, the idea that an action is right to the extent that it is good, and that one ought to seek to maximise the general level of welfare in the world. It's fairly commonsense, but there is a couple of objections to the theory, one of which is that nothing is ruled out as just plain wrong as long as the welfare calculations stack up the right way. And this strikes many people - me included - as a flaw with the theory.

I have a couple of good thought experiments to demonstrate the flaw, and was really hitting my stride in this particular lecture. "So," I said, "let's imagine that you guys" - I waved vaguely to the four students sitting on my left - "are to be the slaves of the rest of us" - waving vaguely at the 12 or so students sitting in front or to my right. "There are certain conditions. Slave owners must treat their slaves well, give them occasional days off, not work them too hard, and so on. So although the slaves' lives will be worse than they are now, they won't be intolerable: they'll still be worth living. And because the slave owners get a slave on a rota basis, their lives will be a bit better. And because there's more owners than slaves, that welfare will be multiplied through. Overall, the world will be a slightly better place. So utilitarianism tells us that we ought to make these guys our slaves."

I was really going for it. I was on a roll. But only as I had uttered these words did I notice that the students on my left - the slaves - all happended to be non-white. And, with one exception, all the slave owners were white.

The lecture was being filmed to be put online for future use. I have since watched the film. I think that the faux pas would have gone unnoticed had I not flinched so visibly when I realised what I'd done.

And that is how I suggested to my black students that they should be the slaves of the white students.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 22 Nov 2007, 13:31, 2 replies)