A Rose By Any Other Name

Some bad things, concepts, and, yes, people, just won't die.  Like shingles, as soon as you think you've gotten rid of them they flare up to fester and annoy.

Political correctness, scourge of the '90s, is just such a pestilence.  Remember when garbage collectors became waste managers and janitors became sanitation engineers?  When "negro" became "person of color," then "black," then "African-American?"  When "deaf" became "hearing impaired," "blind" became "visually challenged," and "fat" became "full figured?"

PCness was particularly idiotic in public schools, where teachers became afraid to say or do anything that might offend someone's sense of self.  They couldn't fail anyone lest they stigmatize a student as a failure.  Hence the "F" grade became a "U."  "A" grades implied elitism, so they set about leveling the grade curve.  Instead of sending those who had mastered one block of instruction on to the next, they were held back to help others who had fallen behind.  Better everyone get a "C" than some an "A" and others a "U."  Developmentally disabled students were mainstreamed to foster an illusion of normalcy, doing grave disservice to teachers, regular students, and, ironically, themselves.

PCness also infected sports.  Not wanting to exalt winners by labeling losers, a movement was begun to eliminate scores in kiddie games.  Participation trophies were presented to all who, well, participated, because it just wasn't fair that some kids might get one while others didn't.  For a long time in college football games, the names of players committing penalties were not announced, just their numbers.  And if an award was made in the name of a player on a winning team, one also had to be made in the name of one on the losing team.

PCness insanity even resulted in mascot name changes, largely due to the mad scramble to suck up to the American Indian Movement.  AIM was formed in Minnesota in 1968 by 200 Indians.  In 1972, an AIM-organized "Trail of Tears March on Washington, DC" was held.  500 showed up.  I don't have the exact 1972 American Indian population, but it was between six and ten million.  You figure the percentage.

Nevertheless, AIM purported to speak for all American Indians.  Liberal institutions of higher learning fell all over themselves in the stampede to satisfy AIM's demands that those with Indian-related nicknames change them forthwith.  As one result, the Marquette Warriors became the Golden Eagles.  My own high school, whose nickname was "Indians," replaced its proud Indianhead logo with a "C" (for Carlisle) and adorned it with a few scraggly chicken feathers.  With a rare display of sanity, Florida State University, whose nickname is "Seminoles," retained the name after the Seminole tribe proclaimed its pride in it and told AIM to kiss off.

That was all decades ago.  You'd think by now PCism is a dead issue.  Well, you'd be wrong, horse blanket-breath.

The NFL's Washington Redskins, a team that has been around decades longer than either AIM or PCism, plays its games in Landover, Maryland.  Its practice field and headquarters are in Ashburn, Virginia.  Apparently there is talk of the team moving into DC proper.

"Not so fast," said DC mayor Vincent C. Gray.  "They want to move here, they gonna have to change that name.  Can't be upsetting no 500 or whatever Indians, no sir."

What should we call them, then, Mayor Munchkin?  I know, something that reflects DC.  How 'bout the Washington Felons, in recognition of your crime rate?  Or perhaps the Washington Hucksters, in homage to all the politicians you harbor?

What's next?  For sure we gotta rename the Packers.  See, the Packers were named after a meat-packing plant, which has to be offensive to both vegans and animal rights whackos.  Maybe the Green Bay Lemmings?  They do play on frozen tundra, after all.  And what about the 49ers?  Can't have a team named after gold-digging capitalists hell-bent on destroying the environment, can we?  The San Francisco Poufs certainly would be an appropriate option, don't you think?

Or, better yet, what say we all just get over ourselves?