As a child growing up Italian-American, I witnessed a demonstration of the kind of persuasion that would eventually influence the architects of political correctness. If you find political correctness annoying now, you should have seen what it was like way back when. In its unvarnished infancy, this early form of political correctness was a demanding and ugly baby—so ugly, it would scare you spitless and you would give it anything it wanted. And I do mean anything. And quickly. Very quickly. Like yesterday, especially if you were fond of your kneecaps.
These days, political correctness is more political than correct, and it has everyone second-guessing everything he says before and after he opens his mouth despite the First Amendment’s protection of free speech. Anti-defamation groups are popping up everywhere like night crawlers after a rain. Modern-day practitioners of political correctness have perfected public whining to such a degree that it is now unofficially considered to be one of the performing arts.
Not so for the pioneering Italian-American practitioners of political correctness. They didn’t whine in public when they were displeased or offended by ethnic slurs or stereotyping, they wielded—bats, metal pipes, and grappling hooks. You name it; they wielded it. Let’s just say they were not whiny, wordy or terribly subtle about their methods of persuasion. Theirs was political correctness on steroids. Continue reading »
