The following is based on an
actual incident that occurred when I was attending the Carlson School of
Management at the University of Minnesota some years ago. Our professor had
informed my class that we would be writing several papers that semester. He
went on to say that the use of the masculine form would be strictly prohibited.
He told the class, “The feminine is fine and neuter is permissible, but anyone
using the masculine at any time on any of these papers will have their work
automatically disqualified. As an example, substitute the word ‘person’ for
man. Anytime you were going to use ‘m..a..n’ use ‘person’ instead. Clear? Of
course, you could use ‘woman’ in place of ‘man’ as well.” True story.
Being the rebel that I am, I raised my hand
and asked him a question…well, actually a couple of them.
“First off, is this a business class, or did I
accidentally wander into a women’s study course?” Glaring from the prof.
“Also,
if we are to use ‘person’ instead of ‘man,’ we’d have to write ‘woperson,’ not
‘woman,’ in place of ‘man.’ Seems kinda confusing. Guess it's just
me. Oh, well…at least it’s neutral. I'll go with it. Okay?”
More
glaring and then, “Are you quite done?”
“Quite.”
So,
as my first paper, I wrote the following instead.
“What This
Class Has Meant to Me: A Look Back After Twenty Years”
I
am so glad I was accepted to the Carlson School of Personagement! Attending
this business class, with its politically correct writing persondate has
fundamentally changed my values, belief system and daily outlook on life. My
new persontra is this: let’s throw off the personacles those affluent white
Anglo-Saxon Protestants have placed on our wrists and ankles! And minds! Those
greedy few with their personicured lawns who personipulate the rest of
personkind for their own benefit. Person, they make me mad!
I
admit, after the first class I felt my personhood was challenged. When I
questioned you in class I could see in your eyes you thought I held personiacal
ideas and you depersonded that I comply with your rules. I personaged to
control my temper even though I felt that the class was being needlessly
personipulated and personeuvered by this persondatory grammar usage. Am I glad
I did!
I
decided I didn’t want to go into business. Didn’t want to work for “the person!”
I was now restless, growing. I wanted to do things I hadn’t done, see things I
hadn’t seen, think things I hadn’t thought, feel things I hadn’t felt! I wanted
to trash everything that came before me! It was so enlightening, person! I
wanted nothing more than peace and free love for all! (Except for those heinous
WASP’Y Columbus descendants who’ve raped the planet. To hell with their “Personifest
Destiny!”)
So
I went to Personhattan, New York. (Where I almost fell into a personhole!) Then
I visited persongrove swamps on the Gulf Coast and communed with personatees. I
went to Personitoba, Canada. I even started playing the persondolin. I read the
Communist Personifesto. I was becoming a real person!
But
something happened. Perhaps it was because, being out of school, there was no
one (except the mainstream media) to tell me exactly what to think and do. And
to tell me what is right (political correctness) and what is wrong
(intolerance) even while claiming everything is really a grey area.
I became lost. I drifted
awhile. I went into personual labor for a time. I started
eating bourgeoisie food like Personwhiches. (Remember those?) I bought a Mickey
Persontle baseball card. I didn’t make persony friends. I tried writing
personuscripts. Hollywood didn’t like them, even though I never used the masculine
form. Then an odd thing happened. I started getting some of my own thoughts and
feelings. Soon, I was formulating my own ideas and opinions…even values. It got
so bad I almost became that personification and personifestation of capitalism,
a personufacturer’s rep.
Yet,
amazingly, I personaged to scrape by, get married and have kids. As I sit
here now on my ottoperson, I am happy. It is Christmastime and I’m listening to
“Away in the Personger.” I always liked that song. I live in the suburbs, yet I
don’t feel guilty.
And
I’ve finally realized something. That whole “writing” exercise in your class?
It wasn’t to enlighten, it was to obfuscate. It was all horse personure! But I
did okay, anyway. I think for myself, now. I am free.
And that’s why
I’m glad I took your “business” class at the ironically named Carlson School
of Management.
Man, it felt good to get that off my chest! So,
cheers.
And, by the way, fuck you.
Care to guess what grade I was given?
*************************************
(I
recalled this story because Rep. Emanuel Cleaver (D-Mo.) offered the opening
prayer of the 117th Congress recently — ending the invocation with "amen
and a-woman." Cleaver's preposterous choice of words came after
Democrats proposed eliminating all "gendered" language from the House rules, instead opting for
"gender-inclusive" language.)
No comments:
Post a Comment