“Politically correct is the language of cowardice.” ~ Billy Connolly
The wife and I were visiting Bob and Debbie, longtime friends who were hosting their yearly summer pig roast. As the 100 lb carcass rotated on the spit, the males of the species were gathered ‘round the beast in true primordial fashion. Premium cigars were lit and enjoyed while the icy cold brews flowed like golden nectar. It was the perfect day for a bunch of ball-scratching troglodytes to grunt and throw the proverbial bull.
Enter: Little Billy – my buddy Bob’s nine year-old kid, dressed in full soccer regalia and hoisting quite the tall and shiny golden trophy. He had just returned from the town tournament with a smile on his face and the look of a champion.
“Look at that sweet trophy,” I said to the boy. “Congratulations on winning the tournament, buddy!”
“Oh, we didn’t win, Mr. Z,” he responded.
“I’m sorry, Billy, too bad you lost, but that’s a killer 2nd place trophy.”
“We didn’t lose and it’s not for 2nd place… or any place,” the kid replied. “EVERYBODY gets a trophy!”
As the little dude ran off to play with his friends, I turned to Bob and asked, “What the hell does THAT mean: EVERYBODY gets a trophy?”
Before Bob could even utter a word, Debbie, who not only wears the chinos in the family, but also keeps Bob’s sack in a mason jar above the fireplace mantle, stepped in to explain.
“The people who run the town league feel that it’s best to keep the kids spirits high by giving them all a nice trophy. It boosts their self esteem and makes them happy little campers – and for the record, I couldn’t agree more!”
“Are you shitting me, Debbie?” I demanded to know. “Doesn’t the winning team feel slighted?”
“Well, Tommy, I’ll have you know that no one ever wins and no one loses,” she uttered with a toothy grin in her proud mom voice, “Actually they don’t even keep score. Like I said, the kids are always happy.”
And there it was… that familiar smell… the vile and pungent stench of politically correct bull-shingles, permeating the air with its foul and heinous odiferous stink. I turned to Bob with the look of disbelief and true disdain in my voice.
“Bro, are you out of your friggin mind? We grew up together and played hockey and baseball and all kinds of sports. The best stories we still tell to this day are from the amazing victories and what we learned from all of those brutal losses.” Of course Debbie tried to cut Bob off from answering, but I was on a roll and pissed as all hell, and now the whole party was listening. “Winning and losing is what happens in every day life. It’s reality. What you’re teaching your kid is namby-pamby, feel good, psychobabble. It isn’t real and you’re setting him up for failure when he has to go out on his own into the real world – a world that’ll devour him whole and spit out his bones. Today’s boys will NEVER grow up to become real men as long as they’re continually coddled in your utopian p.c. la-la land.”
As Bob stood there with his head down, like the pussy-whipped excuse for a man he had become, half the partygoers had their jaws dropped while the other half shook their heads in total agreement with my ice water in the face assessment. And my poor wife – yeah, she was embarrassed beyond words, but after a couple decades of being married to a guy who individually names his farts and thinks that fried bologna is the 5th food group, she was used to my “stand up for your rights” rhetoric. And as you can imagine, Debbie wanted to kick my fat-ass Polack ass.
“You son of a bitch,” she yelled with her fists clenched, ready bash my face in with a metal tray full of deviled eggs. “It’s none of your god-damned business how we raise our child and you are so out of line this time!”
Well, she was right – it really is no business of mine how they raise their kids. I mean, who the hell am I to tell someone what’s the proper way to teach their children about life. It was none of my business and I should have just shut my mouth, apologized and went on my way… right?
F that… I was just getting warmed up.
Unfortunately, the back yard brawl went on for a little while longer as Bob stood there like an emasculated mouse, his nuts in a mason jar and not an ounce of testosterone left in his body. But the reason he was so ashamed is because he knew I was right. That dude was competitive all his life, in sports, school, and chasing tail. And I think he was actually glad I spoke the truth, and that’s why he didn’t attempt to stop me.
There just has to be winners and losers at every stage in life. And the amazing this is – is that the world eventually balances itself out. The nerds and the fatties may get their asses kicked playing dodge ball in grade school, but they grow up with high honors and run companies while the bullies and the jocks often end up mowing their lawns. Karma’s a bitch.
Losing teaches us invaluable life-long lessons and makes us understand how rare and wonderful it is to actually win. I mean, if no one ever kept score and everyone got trophies all the time, how would you learn to develop essential traits like goal setting, perseverance, desire and intestinal fortitude? How would you ever learn that when your ass is getting hammered and your back is nailed to the wall, that you can reach deep down into your soul and muster up the courage to spit in the face of defeat and rise from the ashes. And then there’s the sheer beauty of winning – being on top, if only for a few fleeting moments. It’s something you never forget and you spend the rest of your waking days wanting to feel it once more.
Once again, I openly admit that while it is none of my business how my friends choose to teach their children about life, there’s the part of me that KNOWS how right I really am. If today’s world were to become filled with coddled youngsters that have shelves lined with accolades – all for just participating and not actually achieving or failing – what does that hold for the future of our country or the planet?
Today’s kids are tomorrow’s adults, business people and leaders. We want them to be confident and strong based on what they learn from the struggles and triumphs in life. It is my belief that the doctrines of political correctness make us soft as a culture as we try to please everyone, but in reality, end up crippling society as a whole. It is a dangerous ideology, and as Billy Connolly said, it is truly the language of cowardice. And now that I think about it, when Debbie actually reads this piece, she is seriously gonna want to kick my ass. But, when it comes to the stench of pc, yours truly is always ready to stand up and fight in the name of freedom. ~ TZ
Check Out Tommy Zman’s NEW BOOK coming early 2017: Honey, Does This Make Me Look Fat – Man’s Survival Guide to Co-Existing with Creatures of the Opposite Sex > http://www.tommyzmansbooks.com/
Tommy Zman is an author/humorist, media personality, video & radio spokesman & brand marketer. He’s totally old – school, a down to earth guy with traditional values – family and friends are everything, and integrity is all you really have. But, when it comes to p.c. tyranny, political agendas, and nanny-state legislature, the Zman will draw his sword and swing for the fences. Contact Tommy Z HERE