Not Surprising

Oh boo fucking hoo. A bunch of tatted-up, pierced and hairstyle-challenged kids are having difficulty landing jobs, and of course it’s all The Man’s fault:

In 2017, individuality and creativity are widely regarded as desirable traits in an potential employee.
But it seems some firms still judge prospective hires on appearance, as well as experience.
Jobseekers have been revealing the pettiest reasons they’ve ever been overlooked for a position on the anonymous secret-sharing app Whisper – and tattoos feature heavily in the surprising confessions.
One man with dreadlocks who was turned down for a job said it was not a coincidence that all the other staff members had ‘preppy hair’.
Another woman who had the word ‘hope’ tattooed on her wrist to cover a self-harm scar was informed she was out of the running as a result.

Here’s a pro tip to the author of this piece: employers are looking for individuality and creativity in employees, all right — but self-mutilation and peacocking attitudes aren’t that.

One commenter had the perfect response: “Make a statement about yourself with a tattoo, and be prepared to be judged by it.” 

I note that a large number of these jobs involve interaction with the public, and surprise, surprise: people are turned off by freaky-looking employees.

And then, of course, comes the classic whine of the narcissist: “We shouldn’t have to change our appearance (no matter how freakish); you should change your attitudes because insensitivity.”

Fuck off, the lot of you. Enjoy your welfare existence.

Guidelines

So now we have this foolishness:

“Unacceptable costumes” listed on a University of St. Thomas diversity flier are “wearing Native American headdresses, dressing up as a ‘Mexican’ by wearing a sombrero, dressing as a ‘geisha,’ any form of blackface.”

“Cultural appropriation is defined as ‘the act of taking intellectual and cultural expressions from a culture that is not your own, without showing that you understand or respect the culture,’” explains a University of St. Thomas diversity memo to students.

“This can be as simple as wearing a Dashiki without knowledge or respect to West African culture, and as serious as wearing a fake Native American headdress without any regard of its sacredness,” adds the memo. “It generally incorporates a history of prejudice and discrimination by perpetuating long-standing stereotypes.”

At UC Santa Barbara, a social justice workshop set for Tuesday will delve into how Halloween costumes abuse “indigenous wear” and teach students how to “spot appropriation with the help of bell hooks’ essay ‘Eating the Other.’”

At a “Conversation Circle” at Princeton University this Sunday, students will “engage in a dialogue about the impact of cultural appropriation, Halloween, and why culture is not a costume.”

Oh FFS, I wish these priggish, self-righteous shitwits would just lighten up.

Sounds like an excuse for a nationwide “Clothing Optional” Halloween on campus… although feministicals will no doubt start squealing that swinging dicks create an atmosphere of terror for women or some such bullshit. What a bunch of wussies.

And let’s face it: there’s no fun in everyone dressing in fucking togas, which seems to be the only costume I can think of that’s safe to “appropriate” because all the Romans are dead. (No, modern-day Italians are not Romans except by proxy. Look it up.)

I am so glad I’m not a student anymore, because I would get into shit on at least a daily basis. I just wish that more students could do the same, but they’re the ones calling for all this sensitivity crap. Snotty snowflakes, all of ’em.

No Prompting Needed

According to that bastion of democracy, the United Nations, today (October 11) is the International Day Of The Girl, in which we need to “raise the awareness” (that fucking phrase again) of the struggle facing young women all over the world.

My initial suggestion would be to expel all Muslim-run countries from the United Nations, as most of the problems facing women in general can be attributed to those countries’ 9th-century attitudes towards our lady friends.

However, I’m all for raising awareness of the plight of young women, so let’s catalog a few desperate cases:

I mean, if this hapless girl has to drive a Gremlin to work every day, can any decent man be unmoved at her plight? And consider this poor girl’s situation:

Imagine having to navigate through the world every day on those awful shoes, with that superstructure throwing her off balance at every tottering step?

Then we have this unfortunate girl, who it appears has no home and is forced to sleep on the beach:

And finally, spare a thought for this impoverished child, who lives in a filthy back alley and can’t even afford clothing:

Consider your awareness (amongst other things) raised.

Correction #973

FFS, if I hear one more retarded person say that they did something “on accident” I’m going to… going to… going to… well, let’s just say there will be .45 ACP rounds flying in all directions.

It’s “BY accident”.

BY accident”.

BY accident”.

Aaaargh. And it’s too early for a drink, even for me. Gawd knows what my mood will be like by Whisky O’Clock.

Tread very carefully in Comments…

Waste Of Time

So I went for my annual checkup last Wednesday, and caused the usual response from Dr. Whatsit: “Bugger off and stop wasting my time; I have sick people to look after.” (Oh, and I’d lost nearly ten pounds avoirdupois since my last check-up — most, I suspect, since I returned from Britishland and stopped consuming all those pies, fish & chips, Turkish Delight and Wadworth 6X.) But that’s not the topic of this post.

All the staff were wearing pink instead of their normal blue scrubs, so of course I had to ask the (stupid) question: “Why are you all wearing pink?” and met with the obvious response: “To raise awareness of breast cancer.”

FFS: is there a sentient human being living on this planet who isn’t aware of breast cancer?

The PGA golfers (male and female) wore those silly little lapel ribbons; the NFL players, back before they became unpatriotic little shits, also wore them; and the entire South African (male) cricket team wore all-pink uniforms during an international competition a couple years back. It looked like a Mary fucking Kay convention with cricket bats and helmets, not to mention gay.

By now, I think that if you wanted to raise awareness of breast cancer, you’d have to charter a skywriting aircraft to fly over the jungles of Borneo or the Amazon, because those poor ignorant savages don’t play golf or watch football and probably don’t know the first thing about cricket (thus joining 99% of Americans, but that’s a topic for another time).

What Americans do know a great deal about is breast cancer — but basically, that awareness is worth exactly diddly, because as with so much doubleplus feel-goody bullshit, you can’t do anything with that information — other than to give money to the American Cancer Society, which already has more money than the average Central European nation, but which always seems to need more for… what, exactly? It’s not like the ACS owns cancer hospitals (like the Shriners); no, it seems as though the ACS needs more money to “make people aware” of a disease which everybody fucking knows about already. So basically, raising awareness really means “raising money”. I don’t have a problem with this, I just want people to be honest about their motives.

Oh, and get this: death rates from breast cancer are down 39% since 1989 (from the ACS website, no less). No doubt it’s because of increased awareness of cancer, not vastly improved medications and treatment. (And yes, I know the ACS funds research into the thing — I just think that they could fund even more if they stopped all these timewasting “awareness” drives.)

Cancer is a horrible, lousy, terrible disease. We all know this — some of us, like me, from first-hand or immediate second-hand experience of it — and honestly, I think we can stop with the childish pink ribbons and such because we run the risk of trivializing it.

And by the way: death rates from breast cancer among women are about 21.2 per 100,000.

For men, the death rate from prostate cancer is about 20.1 per 100,000 — statistically about the same as female breast cancer — yet I’ll bet that more people are “aware” of breast cancer than of prostate cancer. I wonder why that is?

Not Going To Go There

Every so often a headline will stop me in my tracks. This is one of them:

Not hitting the link nor, as a public service, am I going to post it so that others can. I think we can see all we need to know right there.

I have standards.

Moving on, here’s another:

This one, however, does get a link because fuckem.