Diversity?

Remember not long ago when a twenty-something year old male made an abomination of everything beer drinkers stand for? Imagine if you will Hank Hill with a terrified look on his face, it's easy if you try. In many ways I identify with Hank in that I TOO hate change. Allow me to stipulate once again, I despise change, not people. Men can't be women and women can't be men, sounds like an easy enough premise to buy, doesn't it? But it also seems to be a radical idea that young people have a hard time wrapping their heads around these days. Why is this? Men who own chain saws, Mepps spinners, and pocketknives usually don't want to be reminded of how many rolls of duct tape, Kleenex, or war paint it takes to make a young man look like a young woman. It's fairly possible the woke crowd may have muddied the water in between diversity and confusion. Diversity means that you bought Rhode Island Red hens and Leghorns, confusion means your only rooster is trying to lay an egg. It seems as though even the animal kingdom understands the difference.

Remind me briefly of the difference between an abomination and a desecration, are they the same thing? That's probably English 101 but the definition evades me at the moment. When my old man was still kicking the four corners of Oklahoma, he referred to the following as a desecration: #1) partaking in those little packets from KFC referred to offhandedly only as "honey sauce." Real honey is not a sauce; it's a gift from the almighty. Dad had an appreciation for this fact, and I (in turn) appreciated him for his point of view. And #2) Pop always said answering your cell phone while at the fishing hole too was a sin. Once when my dad and dad-in-law were fishing together and my father-in-law answered his phone because he knew it was my mother-in-law. Let's just say he was berated abruptly and without recourse with just the correct amount of redneck pepper. The point being is that a little straight talk is always a good idea no matter what the venue.

Not every dirty little secret we hold should be celebrated as a public victory, and I'll lump myself in on those rules as well. I suppose a woman can make herself appear to look somewhat male-like by getting a bit of dirt under her nails, obtaining that high and tight haircut, and attaching a chain to her wallet, but it won't fill her full of testosterone or remove her womb. None of these male-like accessories could erase the existence of her ovaries. When grandpa died at an early age granny had to take all of his manly chores, but it didn't make her a man. It did however make her shoulders broader both literally and figuratively. I should also add that I had the utmost respect for the old girl by filling those boots by just being herself. At the height of her farming career, she probably could have whooped any man in Harper County Kansas, but she never advertised it because she had class. That, and the fact that she made the most mind-blowing cinnamon rolls south of the Mason Dixon line, so everyone wanted to stay in her good graces. Being a man OR a woman is not a choice; it is hardwired into our DNA like complaining about having to stand in line at the DMV or being overtaxed on April 15th. We should all keep in mind that facts don't give a wit about our feelings. That's a tough sell for the next generation but I'm afraid it's an inconvenient truth.

All this ballyhoo reminded me of a saying we had when we were kids, it went something like this; "I can say whatever I want to, it's a free country." When it occurred to me that maybe it's not anymore. Oh sure, it's still true on paper, but is it true enough to keep it in practice? Back in the day we could say whatever we wanted to anyone within limits, if you disbelieve my premise flip on an old episode of Sanford & Son or All in the Family. The reason our world view has changed so drastically is because the younger generation are a bunch of shrinking violets. This generation is so afraid of hurting each others feelings their official flag should show a man walking on eggshells. The saddest part of these changes is it's not like they are bizarre ideas pushed on us by some foreign regime; it's 100% home grown. This is known as being your own worst enemy. Not so long ago I heard a radio program talking about people who are current members of congress whose ancestors were slave owners. I suppose my question about this would be this, to what end? That would be like someone pointing the finger in my direction, claiming that my great grand pappy was a cattle rustler in 1880 and now they plan to string ME up to the highest tree. Are we REALLY responsible for the transgressions of those that hang like fruit from our family trees? This would make about as much sense as impeaching Hillary for Bill's mistakes, and I'm not talking about the time he was caught wearing black socks with sandals.

If a man roughs up a woman and after due process is proven guilty you have my permission to cancel him ten ways from Sunday. But our country is so full of knee jerk reactions these days we don't even wait for the birth before we find everyone is fair game on the first labor pain. The assigning of blame in this country may have become our biggest sin. This is to say that it seems as though nothing has to be proved anymore, and we tend to take people to trial on fairly weak intel. Just remember that anything that cannot be substantiated in a court of law is called inadmissible. This is just fancy trial word that means you are as full as crap as a Christmas goose. Or at the very least you are just twisting the truth until it turns three shades of purple. In the simplest terms the word inadmissible just means it is poppycock until proven otherwise. So, it seems that any citizen can ruin the reputation of another with only the power of their forked tongue. Just remember, whether I am a welder that lives in Northeastern Oklahoma or a litigator in DC it doesn't matter what I say, it only matters what I can prove.