Political Correctness Out of Control

Political Correctness Gone Wild!

The Coddling of the American Mind

Political correctness is out of control. College students are out of control. My daughters are out of control.

Along the lines of my friend’s guest post a few weeks ago, the Atlantic has an article about the insanity of umbrage permeating our young people’s minds.

Check it out in The Coddling of the American Mind.

Faces of Death, Vol. 1

Father's Day vs. Mother's DayKeeping Your Kid Alive

Getting your kid to his first birthday is a feat to be celebrated. There are many ways for you to screw up and accidentally kill your kid. Babies are fragile. They have underdeveloped immune systems. They have underdeveloped every system because they’re babies. Getting them through the first year is an accomplishment.

Mortality rates go down after the first year, but they don’t disappear. For every cabinet you put a lock on, for every electrical outlet you put a plastic plugs in, for every baby gate you wedge in a doorway or at the top of a staircase, there are a million ways for your baby to die that can never imagine.

When Junior was three, we had our property re-landscaped, as our original builder groomed the property so as much water as possible would be funneled into our house. The landscaper used a big machine called a Ditch Witch to carve up the lawn to lay drain pipes.

We live on a steep street with no curbs or sidewalks. The landscaper and his wife/business partner parked their truck and trailer facing downhill adjacent to our property. Junior and I were outside watching the activities and playing.

The landscaper went to load the Ditch Witch back on his trailer, but he was having trouble getting it over the lip of the ramp. Junior had drifted down to the front corner of our property to watch the big machine move. Continue Reading…

Do Not Kneel Before ANY President…But Especially Not THAT One


What’s going on down there?

Where Did I Go Wrong?

Father’s Heart Rended by Historically Ignorant Daughter

My daughter, Principessa, recently had the opportunity to attend a free Katy Perry concert that was to be a fund-raiser for Hillary Clinton. How a free concert could be a fund-raiser is beyond my comprehension and the scope of this post.

Unaware that she was going to this, I fielded the frenetic phone call from the excited girl after the fact. Here is my recollection of my portion of the call: Continue Reading…

An Ode to Political Correctness

politically correct

Pere Marquette orders a Native American to make a U-turn.

I’m Offended! Stop doing that.

Man Loses His $#!% Because of Nickname

Principessa is receiving an uber-liberal education in college, and is unbelievably annoying in her insistence on political correctness. Thunderfoot holds the same views, which will probably be ramped up next Fall when she heads off to college.

Whenever I hear them talking their PC smack, I think of what my friend wrote when Marquette University decided to change their nickname from the Warriors to the Golden Eagles in the mid-90s after receiving exactly zero complaints, My buddy balked at this kowtowing to political correctness and wrote a letter to the editor of the school newspaper. The Marquette Tribune didn’t publish it, but my friend let me read it (or, I should say, he INSISTED I read it). For reasons that are not clear to me now, I kept a copy and recently unearthed it.

For my PC daughters, who I hope will never read it here, I reprint it (without my friend’s permission, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to learn it was finally published somewhere.). (Remember, this was written in the 90s…)

Marquette University has decided that its nickname, the Warriors, is insensitive to Native Americans. A warrior is not necessarily an Indian, but, in the view of the Marquette administration, the warrior symbol is so closely linked with Native Americans that to separate the two would be impossible. A committee (who else?) has decided that despite the fact that no complaints have been registered to date, the nickname must go.

I, for one, applaud this controversial position. Some might say that basketball is inexorably linked to the Marquette Warriors. Some might think that the Fighting Irish is a far more offensive nickname than Warriors. Or how about the Gamecocks of South Carolina? (I wonder what they call their women’s sports teams.) Some might think that a campaign of cultural blandness designed to guarantee that not a single person in the world is offended is ludicrous. But I am behind Marquette’s decision all the way.

In the words of M.U. president Albert J. DiUlio, S.J., “It is in no one’s interest to keep a symbol if it does not reflect the mission of the University.” That being the case, I’m sure the Marquette seal is next to go. How could it possibly reflect the mission of the university if nobody knows what it means? The seal depicts what appears to be two dogs changing a lightbulb, a barber pole, and a drawing of Pere Marquette telling an Indian oarsman that he’s paddling in the wrong direction. Above all that appears the words, “Numen Flumenque.”

First of all, what’s with the dogs? Is this an attempt to answer some twisted riddle? Q: How many dogs does it take to change a lightbulb? A: Two. One to change it, and one to make sure the Anti-Cruelty Society isn’t offended by a dog changing a lightbulb.

Then, there’s the barber pole. Who knows what they had in mind when they thought of this part of the seal. Maybe it’s actually representative of Cliffs’ Notes, which are so often used by university students in lieu of reading actual literary works. [Ed. note: I am being told that the barber pole is actually in honor seven heroes from the House of Onaz, the maternal side of St. Ignatius’ parentage, which distinguished itself in battle. Hmm…Let’s see…What else could we call heroes who distinguished themselves in battles? Perhaps, “warriors”?]

Next, what could be more offensive to Native Americans than a picture of Jacques Marquette ordering a subserviant Indian around? Jacques doesn’t even have the decency to look where he’s directing the Indian to paddle. If I were that Indian, I’d say, “Blow it out your ear, Frenchie. If you don’t like how I’m paddling, start swimming.” The name “Warrior” is a tremendous compliment compared with this unfortunate depiction of European dominance of Native Americans.

Finally, does anybody know what “Numen Flumenque” means? Is it French or Latin? It sounds like the latest flu strain, or a European dance craze. It might reflect the mission of the University if the mission were to revive dead languages. Here’s a hint: If you want a motto to mean something to people, put it in the language that the greatest number of those people speak. Just a thought.

It would make more sense to me to get rid of the offensive and obviously outdated seal before getting rid of the nickname, but as long as the all-knowing committee has made its irreversible decision, I’m willing to help choose a new nickname.

Coming up with a nonoffensive nickname is no easy task. Here are some of my suggestions:

Name Comment
the Maquette Genderless Beings Could be too long.
the Marquette Nondenominational, Nonracial, Noncalorie Persons of Unknown Origin Definitely too long
the Marquette People Probably won’t intimidate opponents
the Marquette Fog Promotes sameness, uniformity, and equality
the Marquette Bland Might be confused with the Marquette Band
the Marquette Variables Acknowledges differences while promoting our strong Chemistry and Mathematics programs.
the Marquette Blobs of Well-Organized Protoplasm All inclusive, nonoffensive, vague chemical reference
the Marquette Milquetoast French-looking, appropriate name for those afraid to rattle any cages or take a stand

For one reason or another, all the nonoffensive, politically sensitive names I considered were either too vague or incredibly dull. I then decided that I must pick a name from the animal kingdom. Animals may get offended by their portrayal in collegiate sports, but they don’t complain much. In picking an animal-based nickname, I wanted to pick an animal that was not currently being used by every other high school or college (i.e., Panthers, Wildcats, Lions, Tigers, Bears, Eagles, Banana Slugs, etc.). I also wished to pick an animal that possessed the qualities that Marquette would like to see its representatives engender. And by engender, I’m not referring to one gender or the other, but merely to gender in general. I apologize if I offend.

Anyway, here are some of my suggestions:

Name Qualities/Comments
the Ring-Tailed Lemurs live in large groups, work will with their hands
the Emus nobody knows what these things are

“M.U.” angle of Emus

the Three-Toed Sloths slow, lazy, hang upside down from trees; a really stupid suggestion; might offend the disabled
the Lemmings small rodents who follow the crowd; accurate name for the politically correct

After discarding all my attempts at a new nickname, and on the verge of despondency, (and when I say despondency, I don’t mean to disparage the despondent, and I apologize if I did) I was struck by a bolt of inspiration. The perfect nonoffensive, nonsexist, nongender specific, nonracial, noncarbonated, politically correct, sensitive-to-all nickname — the Marquette Barneys! Who could be more nonoffensive than Barney? He’s so nice, it’s maddening. Just think of what this image will do to our opponents. They will be so riled thinking about Barney’s overly considerate nature, and his nauseating good manners, that they won’t be able to concentrate on the game. All we need to do is change our colors to purple and green and change our fight song (and when I say fight song, I don’t mean to offend pacifists, and I apologize if I did).


I love you, you love me

kick it out and hit the three,

with a great big dunk

and a pass from me to you

won’t you say you love M.U.


And, we instantly have a new mascot and lovable sidekick. Plus, think of the marketing opportunities. Barney is everywhere. But now, Barney will be marketed wearing a Marquette jersey. Every parent whose kid owns Barney sheets, shoes, lunch boxes, clothes, etc., will now have to buy all new M.U. Barney stuff because the kid will just have to have it. Think of it!

Kids will grow up wanting to come to Marquette. Then, we can teach them all to be politically correct thinkers.   We’ll teach them that they should never express how they feel because someone might disagree with them, and that would be wrong. Individuality and creativity are fine, as long as we all do it together the way it’s always been done. They’ll learn how to thrive in an atmosphere of sameness and perfect equality. They’ll learn to please everyone all the time, and value superficial gestures over meaningful change. We’ll graduate more politicians than the entire Ivy League.

And maybe, if we’re not careful, they just might learn that in making sure you don’t offend anyone, in a way, you offend everyone.

Husband, Father, Poop Inspector


If you hot-glued the leg openings and the waistband, there could still be leakage.

Where do I put “Poop Inspector” on my resume?

This was not mentioned in the brochures…

When I signed up to be a parent (What? You never saw the sign-up sheet?), there were a few disclosures that should have been mentioned. I’ve decided not to sue the Wife (who was already a parent) for her gross negligence, but I thought I should mention one of the job duties of a parent that might not seem immediately obvious.

“Dad, come look at my poop.”

You will be a poop inspector. There is surprisingly little training for this (i.e., none) in any of the parenting classes (which don’t really exist) available to those considering parenthood.

Not only will you be a poop inspector, but you will get poop on your hands. Never, in my many years as a bachelor, did I consider that I would have another human’s poop on my hands. Nevertheless, having an infant makes it unavoidable. Continue Reading…

Lesson from the Blood Moon Lunar Eclipse

bloody murder

The Blood Moon. Now 17% larger!

Lunar Eclipse Denouement

Man Scares Bejeezus Out of Local Walker

I took pictures of the Blood Moon/Harvest Moon/17% larger moon two nights ago.

Yesterday morning, I awoke at 5:30. I had heard that the moon would still be visible and still appear huge, so I grabbed my camera and tripod and headed outside.

To get a good view, I had to walk down my driveway and stand in the street of our cul-du-sac. Our street slopes upward steeply to the west. The huge moon was perfectly in line with our upsloping street.

I set my tripod down and started to take pictures.

I wanted to give my pictures some perspective, so viewers could tell just how large the moon appeared, so I turned on my flash to get a shot of the moon framed by the trees on the sides of my street.

Little did I know, I was not alone on this morning. A woman was silently walking up my street, behind me by about 50 yards. Apparently, she didn’t see me.

Until, that is, the flash on my camera fired. Continue Reading…

Menstruation Denial

This is what showed up when I searched for pictures related to menstruation. What kind of photographer tags a picture like this?

This is what showed up when I searched for pictures related to menstruation. What kind of photographer tags a picture like this?

It’s Raining Menses

Girl Uses Denial to Stave Off Womanhood

At a time when I was a stay-at-home dad, and still allowed to do the family laundry, I started to notice what I will call “racing stripes” in young Thunderfoot’s underwear. Knowing the history of the filthiest of our children, I had to ask the question—“Does this girl wipe?”

Katrina has a talk with Thunderfoot.

I get the update. Apparently, Thunderfoot does wipe, but reports that she has been having diarrhea from time to time. Okay. Fine. We move on. Continue Reading…

First Sleepover


Even illegal aliens don’t like using backpacks as pillows (on account of their enormous heads).

First and Maybe Last Sleepover

Sleepy Parents Ruin Child’s First Sleepover

Junior is 6. His friend from the bus, who lives at the end of street, is in Kindergarten. The friend and his parents have invited Junior for a sleepover.

Junior has never had a sleepover before, and this looks like the perfect opportunity. We’ve met the parents. We give the friend a ride home from the bus stop. It’s close to home in case Junior freaks out. So we’re on board with the sleepover.

We pack everything Junior needs in his backpack, including his “special” blanket, and send him on his way for the evening.

It is not until the next day, when we pick him up, that we get the full story of what happened that night. Continue Reading…