THE DRUNK REPORT

Welcome to the brand spanking new thedrunkreport.net! (Now with optional Scotch Guard) Jack Manhattan here and I am still recovering from my Friday night out. Not with a hangover (I know, I know, but it does happen occasionally) but from the most God awful, watered down G&T I have ever had the misfortune to order. The hooka did make up for it, however.

Now, to the reason that I had to make a spicier than usual bloody Mary this morning. Let’s talk about race. Now, I know that a great deal has been written and discussed on this subject recently because of President Obama. U.S. Representative Joe Wilson, of the great state of South Carolina, long known as a beacon of enlightened reason (yeah, that goes down like a neat shot of absinthe), brought it all to a head with his “You lie!” outburst. But that was the end result of the systemic disease that pervades our culture.

We do not discuss race. We are treating symptoms not the underlying sickness.

With the passing of the Civil Rights Act, official racism ended. Thus began the birth of the era of “Political Correctness.” With this new era, racism went underground. The institutional racism was forced to find other ways to keep the status quo. This is not to say that every white person is racist, nor that institutions of business and learning intentionally set out to prevent minorities from succeeding, but centuries of indoctrination is hard to overcome with a piece of paper signed by the President.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in a home where there was no key on the always well stocked liquor cabinet and where my parents ensured that I was surrounded by people of many different cultures, races and backgrounds. I was 8 or 9 before I ever even heard “The N Word”, and that was from a classmate. I didn’t know exactly what it meant. It was in the context of some juvenile joke about the pronunciation of the mid-African nation of Niger. When I recounted this joke to my assembled family at Thanksgiving, my parents let me know the correct pronunciation of the nation, and that I was not to say that word.

So, while swilling high balls (mental note must go get oranges at the store) “The Man” made sure that the children of those at the top stayed at the top, got into the right schools, the right firms, the right internships, et cetera. It was less an attempt to keep anyone down than an attempt to ensure that their children received the same socio-economic status that they did. Or was it? Is this what we whites have come to believe? That we are not really racist. That we don’t have anything against African-Americans. But we don’t want them in our neighborhoods, our schools, our grocery stores (except behind the counter)?

I mean, I’m not racist. I have black friends (on Facebook). I’ve drunk a 40 or two in my life (Mad Dog baby!) I have a black card (no, not the American Express one!)

But back to the issues at hand: refilling my Jameson and racism and Barack Obama. There was a very real effort not to say anything that would paint the reporters and commentators as racist. Or “playing the race card.” But, simmering under the surface were all the things that people would want to ask or say but would be considered un-PC. So, it festered, and then it came to a head. But no one would pop it, drain the infection.

I do not agree with Representative Wilson. But, were we, as a nation, allowed to address some of these issues, his outburst would not have been applauded, or at least defended by so many. We are afraid to talk about these issues as a nation. If Whites say anything, they are racist. If Blacks get to say something, they are using slavery and segregation to justify getting any kind of extra consideration. But the conversation cannot be put off any more. If we are ever to be comfortable with each other, in this ever shrinking (like my Martini, there’s got to be a hole in this glass somewhere!) world. If we don’t have the conversation, then it continues to fester, and we will have more and more explosions like Representative Wilson, and they will only get worse with time.