International Night at my daughter's school. I tell my girls it won't be fun. They don't listen.
First, we get there late and miss the International Foods Bazaar featuring homemade, indigenous treats, and I'm hungry. So hungry I almost ate 2 hour old unregulated Ethiopian food right out of some lady's crockpot.
It looked iffy, so I exercised restraint and went to a vending machine. There was a commotion around the corner. The International Rainbow of Diversity stage show was about to begin.
The show docket has the place buzzing. International dancing by the children and a lecture about the religion of Diversity by Bill Nigut! Who knew America was such a wonderful place? Everywhere around the world. They comin' to America!
Bill was a reporter for Channel 2 locally for a long time, and I've had him on my radio show. He at first strikes you as a nice guy, and there is no doubt in my mind that he is well-intentioned and means no harm. But the reality is that he wears thin after repeated meetings as he reveals himself to be the stereotypically dingy, guilt-ridden, uptight, Jewish liberal amongst whom I grew up, but without a well-developed humor gene.
He came to preach to us how race is not a big deal, but, it's A BIG DEAL!!!!!!
Due to the doctrines of Diversity, the seating is Who Concert style. Whose bright idea was it to make a restless crowd, filled with people from cultures where pushing and shoving are the norm, wait outside locked doors for 20 minutes? Of course, once inside, despite an obvious 2-1 ratio of people to seats, many feel it necessary to save seats for their same-skinded friends so they can sit together and learn about Diversity. We're packed in like political prisoners in a soccer stadium awaiting re-education. The hectoring begins only 25 minutes late, which is on time in the DPT (Diverse People's Time).
"I used to be on TV news for many years," Mr. Nigut, the Troy McClure of political correctness, tells the fidgety audience dressed in their hot, uncomfortable, and stupid looking native attire. "But it wasn't enough. I wanted to make MORE of a difference."
I guess he was frustrated in TV because of all those damn conservatives he worked with in the news room. Must have been hell, Bill.
How do you make more of a difference? Act crazier? I don't see any other way short of running for office. Bill is not running for office. He's running a guilt museum in Atlanta now and giving speeches to gullible school children about their skin color. He might as well molest them for all the good he's doing them.
"Let me tell you, 9/11 changed the world forever," he says.
This 9/11 of which you speak. Tell me more.
According to Bill, 9/11 was bad. But it was bad because it made the world more suspicious of Muslims.
OK. no. yeah. but. wait. like. and. such as. anyway. What about the Trade Center and all that?
"The vast majority......" he begins.
That's all I hear. I'm frying at this obnoxious waste of tax dollars.
The asininity of this idea is so profound that it should be a candidate for the first free speech to be made illegal. How does a guy get so selfish that he will roll his entire country under the bus so he can be viewed as a moral paragon? Then this ass-kissing coward stands there and basks in the applause from all the Islamics in the audience who saved seats to be near each other and talk in another tongue.
But it's NOT ENOUGH! Always seeking to make more of a difference, Bill then leads this great, blatant, pandering cheer where he mentions every religion and geo-political skin tone he can think of and exhorts each minority group to cheer for itself.
And that's when I took the last hinge off this fragile jerk's door without saying a word.
He continues his apologetic speech. "Ya see, I grew up in an all-white school..."
I clapped a lame little clap. Yay! My turn to be special.
This makes Bill stop. He turns and points in the general area of where I'm sitting. He's upset at this non-consensual race-cheering.
"Ya know, if that's your thought process, I don't want you in here," he scolds. So much for diversity of opinion...and to hell with humor. Hey, this was fun, Bill.
My wife digs her heel into my foot.
"You're starting a race riot in here." she hisses. And my foot is the brake?
So with everyone--Bill, the audience, me, and my family--all in agreement, we cut out of the Remains of the International Day and head to our favorite Indian restaurant where they treat us like goddamn royalty.