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October 2007 by R. C. (RCat) Arquette  “Hey,
I got ya’s politically correct…right herrrrre!”– Vinnie, on a sidewalk on 46th Street, New York City. I’d like to believe I’m not as crude an individual as our friend Vinnie, in the aforementioned quote, but on this particular subject, I think Vinnie has summed up my sentiments rather succinctly. Of course, there are those who know me that will argue I AM that crude, and I just couch my baser feelings in a lot of babble and two-bit words. I’m not going to argue the point; as is oft deliberately misquoted, ‘Hey! I resemble that remark.’ So the masochist I am, I’ll take my lumps and plead guilty as charged. I suppose I’m late in chiming in on the whole ‘political correctness’ issue. It seemed to have reached a head in the media several years back when it had become the butt of a great deal of comedian’s jokes. A perfect example of the ‘swinging pendulum’ effect; an issue reaches it’s zenith and becomes a parody of itself only to swing back in the opposite direction.(I personally would like to see the pendulum just hang there motionless, which seems to be the only time that life is at all calm and restrained) It seems to me the reason we don’t hear more outcry on the subject is that it has become legitimized. Quickly adopted by all the well-meaning people in places of importance and rapidly established as policy and procedure; in some cases, law. I would agree that some of this thinking is of value. People have been picking at each other for various reasons since they learned to stand upright. If some benevolent force doesn’t enter the picture and force a change, these sort of inequities can go on unchecked making life miserable for it’s victims. There are areas of this ‘political correctness’ that border on theater of the absurd and should be treated as such. In particular, anything to do with humor and parody falls into this area. An area that in the history of this country has seen many witty and creative people leave an indelible mark; people like Mark Twain, Dorothy Parker, Groucho Marx, Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, Frank Zappa, Fred Allen, the members of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, and far too many more to list. I would like to feel that as adults we all have the ability to see the difference between humor for humor’s sake (as in ha ha ha!) and humor that is decidedly focused on insulting or degrading it’s subject (as in jab jab jab). Yet, having lived too long on this glob of mud we call home, I’ve found to the contrary that we don’t. Here I’m referring to those throwbacks among us…that group of misshapen and mentally challenged life forms that barely escaped the low end of the gene pool in an imitation of humankind. You know who I mean; they’re everywhere. Turn on a television and flip a few channels and you’re bound to find one. A good many make up the audience and guests on a “Jerry Springer Show;” folks here can’t even spell ‘politically correct.’ Or how about the Comedy Central cable channel which has “The Man Show” (makes me sorry I am one!), a program with enough adolescent high school locker-room humor to satisfy most pimple faced boys for a lifetime. To take it down a notch lower, which is hard to believe possible, there is the “Jackass Show,” another rollicking low-brow look at the dignity of man; one idiot stunt after another performed to the delight of the new generation of sensory numbed pain junkies. A concept that can be found creeping around the regular networks in the form of “Fear Factor;” a place to eat worms, bugs, snot and other repulsive materials for a monetary reward. This new form of “reality” based programming was actually foreseen back in the 60’s. A wonderfully twisted movie entitled, “The Magic Christian,” with Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr, illustrated just how far people will go for money. I laughed at this picture..now the same concept is brought to the small screen in various forms on a weekly basis..but their not kidding! The “Survivor,” as well as “Fear Factor,” are just extensions of this voyeuristic appetite our debased culture has sunk to. We love to watch, to eaves drop, to spy from afar. Our culture alienates us with email, chat rooms, answering machines, phone recordings, form letters, disembodied heads on monitors servicing us at ATM machines, ticket booths, and at the bank. No one wants to have to deal with one another face to face, but they will hide in your closet with a video camera to see if you wear your wife’s lingerie to bed. Then, six weeks later, your friends and relatives can all see you waltzing around in Victoria’s Secret as the star attraction on the latest bit of reality based drool on channel 9!. A perfect example of this were the people incensed with the ill treatment of “little people.” They stood together in outrage at the practice of dwarf tossing. Yet now they are the very same people elevating the Nielsen ratings by tuning in to these asinine television sideshows like “Fear Factor.” Dwarf tossing, if you recall, was a sport born in the outback watering holes of Australia and was quickly embraced by the brain dead bar-flies and frat boys of America. The dwarves didn’t seem to mind and the bar owners felt that anything to make a buck was fair game, but it wasn’t enough to stop the moral outcry. I presume that politically correct or not, once a group becomes numbed to a certain level of sensory onslaught, the stimuli has to be ratcheted up a couple notches to keep peoples attention. This may eventually lead to an updating of the gladiatorial ring; the spectacle of the arena, (in part already done on a milder level with the program ‘American Gladiator’) or programs in the vein of Stephen King’s premonitions of a future degraded, as in “The Running Man:” a game show out of control. I guess the point I’ve been trying to make…I do ramble at times… is that some things in life are funny...some are not. The line is thin between them and can only be defined by our own perceptions. These perceptions cannot be legislated or defined by rules and regulations. They can only be defined by our individual experience and our use of common sense. We have the ability to think…it would be nice if we could use it to make our lives more enjoyable…for all of us. To that end, we need to be both sensitive in what we do and say to our fellow men as well as tolerant in what is said and done around us. If our actions in response to this come from a sense of underlying compassion then this should be a snap. Not to mention a lot of cash could be saved on training seminars in anger management, sexual harassment workshops, family therapy sessions, road rage schooling, etc. We need to get along with each other…not because of some imposed idea of what is politically correct, but out of intelligent thought and humanity…and without giving up our sense of humor! Now if you’ll excuse me..I’ve gotta’ go tell a few ethnic jokes in poor taste and pat a few women on the ass!…(chuckle)…Now that’s friggin’ funny! Your Faithful Reporter - RCat
Currently, his duties include acting as the head of a family consisting of an overworked wife, a vibrating teenaged son, and an over stimulated housecat. An elder daughter resides at some distance with her own family; a husband, two sons, and a daughter. As head of this merry band of pranksters, the illusionary aspects of his carefree life are played out on the stage of daily routine. RCat is a self described ‘survivor,’ having lived through the ‘flower power’ promises of the 1960’s with the goals of world peace, universal brotherhood, free-love, and the legalization of certain organic herbs. Contrary to what others might say, he can still remember parts of it quite vividly. Sadly, those cosmic issues have now been reduced to the cliché. He now, more realistically, understands the world has gone quite mad and no longer cares to be a part of the continuing descent into oblivion. The thought of putting on a loincloth to venture forth and live out his days meditating in a tall tree in a distant forest sounds appealing. Of course, he isn’t kidding himself. Chances are a noisy bunch of cretins will quickly invade the tree next to him. Ah well, such is the way of this planet we call home. In the meantime, he scribbles poetry, short stories, and essays, as well as a choppy stream of drawings, cartoons and works of art. All done with a grin as meditative mental therapy in an effort to hold onto what little remains of his sanity. Enjoy him while you can, he is the quintessential endangered species. |
