Canadian newspaper columnist expresses opinion, totally discredits Harvard race-bias research.

BREAKING NEWS:

Globe and Mail columnist Margaret Wente

has dealt a shocking blow to a decades-long research effort at Harvard University by coming up with an opinion that is totally opposite to the team’s findings.

“The research said that people have an unconscious bias based on racial characteristics,” said Ms Wente while briskly drying herself after her morning shower.

“But even before I skimmed the article I had my doubts.  Something about this so-called scientific, peer-reviewed liberal claptrap just didn’t jibe – like, systemic racism?  C’mon guys!

“I immediately plunged into some intensive research by interviewing our mail boy – he’s a darkie by the way – so much for this myth of hiring discrimination!  And just as well,  I mean if that kid was out on the streets, you’d be kissing that fancy car of yours goodbye, let me tell ya!

“So the next morning I took my usual shower and came up with the opinion that this Harvard research doesn’t matter, even though it’s true!  I’m just not buying it!”

Wente suddenly dropped her scholarly tone.  “Hey, have you seen my new ‘Rainforest‘ showerhead from Canadian Tire?” she beamed, with obvious pride. “Even though I don’t think rainforests are anything special!

Opinion Margaret Wente Do unconscious biases really make us behave in racist ways
Margaret Wente:  Opinions and rat’s nests fresh from the shower.

“In fact, in my opinion, we should totally stop doing anything about rainforests! You know something, that just occurred to me!”

Continued Ms Wente, “Also, it’s occurred to me that I have to do something about this rat’s nest of a hairstyle! Sheesh, will you take a look at this fiasco?”

Ms Wente explained that her shower-opinion-flashes began decades ago, during high school:

“One day, while having a shower after gym, I had this flash, and suddenly my opinion was that the whole hair stylists thing was a scam,” confided Ms Wente, “so I started cutting my own, then slapping on a little Brylcreem. But just between the two of us, it’s not working for me this morning.”

But how does Ms Wente handle the issue of credibility?

“Are you kidding?” replied Ms Wente, who seemed unfazed by the challenge. “I mean, have a gander!  The hair style, the dorky eyeglasses, the saggy blouse—I look like a gunny sack full of galoshes!

“So if I say ‘I’m not buying it’, I’m backed up by this whole proto-lesbian thing. I mean, if I look as scary as this and people still don’t get that my opinions are right, well—Houston!  We have a problem!”

We spoke next to Dr. Eberhard Faber, the Harvard research team leader.

“We’ve been undergoing intensive suicide intervention counseling down here,” said a barely-audible Dr Faber, his voice shaking with emotion.

“It’s just been devastating. I mean, some people have dedicated their entire lives to this work, and then, to just wake up one day and find out that Margaret isn’t buying it— ”

Dr Faber took a moment to catch his breath. “It’s like our worst nightmare. Sorry, it’s time for my anti-psychotic.  I have to go.”

Following up with Ms Wente by phone, we asked if she felt any responsibility for the effects her opinions might have caused.

“Frankly, no,” Ms Wente snapped. “I’m a journalist.  My only responsibility is to just get in that shower, have my flash, kit up like Gertrude Stein, and state my opinion. Let the chips fall where they may!”

She added, her voice softening, “Sassoon just refused me an appointment. They said they might be able to wrangle twenty minutes in the chair at “Just Cuts”. This is off the record, right?”

Stephen Harper is “on vacation”.

with reporting from Glossolalia-Jeezus “Real” McCoy. 

\m/

Wednesday WaWa: An offering from AuntyMeme(TM), and can I just say…

aintitgrand

… you know, it boggles my substance-addled,

Swiss-cheese-resembling remaining chunk of gummy, wet brain to realize that we can simulate a moon-landing so convincingly, give all mankind the illusion that the Earth is round, create a fake fossil record out of a secret underground facility in Oregon AND uncover through painstaking minutes of reading the National Enquirer that it was “The Jews” who trashed the Twin Towers—

—(they’re behind everything, you see, and I tell ya, a guy does gasp at the chutzpah with which they managed to pull it off, PLUS have enough spare time left over to co-ordinate six million of their Jeezus-shtupping brethren to fake all those Holocaust death camps—genug schon already, guys!—

—and can I just say, if any of you reading this should, god forbid, bang your goyisher kuhp on a Daniel Goldstein or a Manny Lipschitz or some similar gozlin as they aim for the CN Tower while strapped into a small aircraft, can you get His Mensch-iness to verify that “The Jews” own all the media, then ask him to please please please get me American Netflix?  Thanks, I mean, “shalom” )—

—but apparently we just can’t figure out how to engineer a content management system so that I can get the special character for “trademark” to appear in the title of a BLOG POST!!!

Fuck the Twin Tower slammers, alter cockers every one.  For this WordPress incompetence, I blame “The Muslims”.

Yessiree, those li’l freckle-faced rascals!

It must be The Terrorist Towel-Headed Islamo-Tards who have infiltrated and now surely form the greater part of the WordPress Special Blog-Title Standing Committee on No-Superscripts-For-You-ooh.

Totally!

As a bonus, choosing a new, fresh-off-the-life-raft scapegoat now and then adds a little diversification, not to mention “sparkle”, to a guy’s portfolio of blatant, self-serving racism.  It’s win-win, but with both “wins” for me, and if that ain’t the Chicago School of Economics, what is?

So, In’sha’Allah, babywhich means “if God is willing”, and all I can say to that is:

Yep, HE sure is willing when you think of Beethoven; but
Nope, HE sure is super-retarded not willing when you think of cancer.

Let’s just agree HE’s more willing than the average Allah, except, in fact, most of the time, and not push our luck.

You know, and just for the record—I don’t blame “The Muslims” because it’s true.  I blame “The Muslims” because it’s trendy.

OK, taking a deep breath now and shaking all my feathers so that they fluff and whirr and rustle into place as I blink myopically at something totally different on either side of my head.

~

You may be wondering.

Well, it’s countdown to eviction here at my basement in the sky,  and I know it’s affecting me because Will, the tall, broad-shouldered, horse-dicked, fuck-yer-brains-out-gorgeous yet regrettably psychotic homeless person to whom I offered a couple of free meals (successfully) plus my ass (unsuccessfully) the other day, barged in, locked himself in my bathroom so he could scream at an invisible enemy in private, then came out of the bathroom and said,

Did you dye your hair?  It looks lighter.

Which non sequitur, admittedly a bit “L’Oréal” for someone who lives in a drain pipe, made me realize that I’d gone grey, like the protagonist in “Descent Into The Maelstrom” by Edgar Allan Poe.  And I can barely stop myself from quipping, “That was no maelstrom, that was my life!”.

(It’s also sobering to think that a guy who’s so crazy he thinks he’s god and I’m a shape-shifting demon still isn’t koo-koo enough to take advantage of me, even bribed with a blue-plate special and a free subway token.  Coming soon to a psychiatric ward near you: Me, dressed like Napoleon and doused with Glade Room Freshener as I attempt to speed-date.)

What do you do when you’ve got 48 hours to dredge up another $200 towards January’s rent, yes, that January, the one that’s over, and—because one has learned the hard way that dealing with two catastrophically, crazy-making-ly impossible financial demands at once doesn’t win you points for “multi-tasking”—you haven’t even started thinking about how you’ll manage February’s?

Since you asked:

You invoke your inner AuntieMeme™, you fire up Phototard and you create an inspirational artwork with just enough bitterness to keep it Adult Entertainment;

You take the tattered net of desperation down to the Sea of Disaster and dredge for oysters; but you keep the shells for yourself and pitch the pearls of wisdom at your sneering audience;

You turn on the headlights so you can aim straight off the cliff with no swerving.

Then— you make Kraft Dinner. With hot dogs, hold the broccoli.

 

picture-of-me-32