I Sat on a Tire

I should like to think our fair nation past the dark times of racist name-slinging, yet not a day passes where my ears are left unassailed by horrible slurs. Exclamations of Black, Yellow, and White, these painful paint-filled balloons, splatter across my ears as I scamper across the schoolyard. Must we be so blind to the destructive nature of such verbal atrocities? Therefore, I propose nothing less than the complete overhaul of our current backwards argot – we must pull ourselves up from the dark pit of intolerance so that we may see the radiant sun of well-thought-out racial labeling.
As Plato once allegorized, I must now re-descend into the cave of ignorance, so that I may communicate with the helf-blind populous, that is, my primitive readers. As the USA consists mainly of “White” and “Black” people (I shudder to even write such slurs), I will address these two races respectively in my appeal for language reform.
“White” is associated with an absence of color, a void, a nothingness, and I for one am appalled to be addressed as an empty person, as if culture and heritage were only inherent with darker skin tones. Why, it is well known that people of my color have been very crucial and influential proponents in the course of history – the Crusades, the colonization of Africa and North America, the invention of mayonnaise…we were behind it all. Does our race therefore not perhaps merit a name of higher esteem? “Anglo-Saxon-American” would have been nice, but I fear our darker-skinned brothers may somewhat muddle it with the name for their indigenous instrument which so often graces the ear with soft blue notes via the talented hands of players such as Dizzy Gillespie. Also accounting for the fact that people of my color exist outside the USA, or have moved into the USA, or have parents from a foreign country, I propose that we preface our race with the dual-mention of both parents’ motherlands, followed by our prestigious racial title: Anglo-Descenders, or in our case, American-Anglo-Descenders. As it is common knowledge that people of my color originated in England, one would find it hard to mistake such a specific name for another. For example, I am an American-Anglo-American-Anglo-Descender, as my father was born in England, and my mother in Chicago. An individual whose parents were both from the USA would be an American-American-American-Anglo-Descender, or rather an “Americubed” (trust me, the name will catch on), the cube, incidentally, being the shape of perfection. Anyone who cannot see the clarity and accuracy of this label is obviously an old conservative Americubed who wishes to vandalize the beautiful face of my political correction.
Allow me to use the mention of vandalism to segue to my proposal for the name of our darker-skinned country-sharers. I have it on the authority of a friend who overheard a pigmently-gifted man in the subway claim that Africa has problems with poverty, famine, and disease on a daily basis. Were I such a man, I would think it rather degrading for the name of my race (“African-American) to entail such negative presences, and therefore, in an effort of civility I humbly submit a new proud banner for all darker-skinned persons to wear proudly: “Deep-South Europeans.” Indeed, the name is apt, as Africa does lie far south of Europe. Thus, instead of greedily hoarding away all of Europe’s rich culture and pride, I propose we share our paternal continent with our brothers; they are still allowed to reference their motherland, but avoid the awkward and uncomfortable mention of its myriad faults by speaking in relation to our upright and civilized continent. The “B-word” will also thankfully become obsolete, and I give my readers credit in assuming that I am not required to elaborate on the dark and insidious connotations of such a horrid color. A fellow reformer and friend of mine suggested to me that one should have their baby tarred as appropriate punishment for such a linguistic abomination. Thus, a badge of shame will be worn upon all racists in the form of their very own tar-babies. I have presented for you, my spongy readers, the very essence of my creative juices, in the optimistic hope of absorption. To both Americubes and Deep-South Europeans alike, I bid you adieu, and raise my glass to a bright future, free from our old-world and obsolete racial names.