June, 1993
I know it’s been hard on you all during the Enemies Gap, what with me not knowing who to tell you to hate. Normally, I can get you used to hating the new Enemy Designate in about six months—eight or ten if you don’t have TV. But times are hard, and we’ve been forced to recycle some old enemies—Saddam, for example. Meanwhile, we’ve still got the old domestic standby, Political Correctness. I don’t know if you ever noticed that PC is just CP spelled backwards. We’ve been learning about recycling, you see. We’re not wasting any taxpayer letters here.
PC starts in the university, which they try to turn into a DI-versity. They try to make you conform, which is fine, but they want you to conform to nonconformism, which doesn’t make any sense to me. Then it trickles down into the lower grades. I know about this, because I do a little pro Bono work at my presentations; I have them bring the children backstage and I share my point of view with them, so they won’t need their own.
Well, one evening last week I was talking to this little girl—no, can’t say that—differently heighted pre-woman, about these problems, and we were just stepping out the door when we tripped over this homeless—sorry, residentially challenged fellow and—you see? It’s getting so you can’t say anything anymore without being challenged, which is all right for you, but I’ve got a job to do!
And the feminazis are jumping all over Bob Packwood. Let’s be fair, the guy has an ethical disability, and you just don’t make fun of the differently ethicized. Give the guy a break. He told me he’s found God and she’s a woman, and he kissed her on the mouth.